—SHRRRAA—KLOMP—TOTTAL—SHIIIT—VZZZ-POP
RADIO NEBULA 69.99 FTLM!—[A cosmic jazz jingle which, according to CAS scientists, disrupts quantum fluctuations in pulsars and forces them to spin harder than physically possible]“…You’re tuned in to Radio Nebula 69.99 FTLM…
December 6th, 3479—SST.And with you—your one and only, incomparable, unmatched,
badass and universally adored
Dick Melody.Jesus fucking Christ… I spent the entire week dealing with contract lawyers over Todd—
that fucking thing is 130 pages long, size 8 font,
written like Todd wanted me to go blind
and sign my own death warrant.And here’s the best part.
Section TERMINATION OF EMPLOYMENT, clause 129.12.B:
‘In accordance with the terms of this Agreement, the Agent may be terminated, removed, suspended, replaced, released from duty, or permitted to resign only upon the explicit prior written consent of all involved parties, including, without limitation, the Agent whose termination, removal, suspension, replacement, release, or resignation is being contemplated.’
Let me translate that into human language:
I can’t fire him unless he wants to be fired.
And he can’t quit unless I agree.
Fuck…
Legally speaking…
we are now basically… married.And if I do fire him anyway,
he’s entitled to compensation—
which, yes, includes my artificial kidneys.But don’t you worry, my dear gremlins…
Don’t think Dick is that easy to smear across a legal wall.
Oh-ho-ho… there’s this one clause—old as a bureaucrat’s ass—
the kind they throw in just for tradition…‘Force majeure.’
It says:
‘If force majeure circumstances continue for more than 90 days, any party has the right to terminate the Agreement, and all obligations related to termination shall be nullified.'”
[Dick starts laughing. Hard. So hard Jackie is already reaching for the med kit, looking for sedatives]“UHAHAHAHA… holy shit…
With things like ZEROS and that motherfucker BLINDY running around the galaxy—
they’ll give us such a force-fucking-majeure
they’ll turn half the universe into an insurance claim in a couple weeks!And right before I die—
I will finally, officially, and legally
tell Todd to go fuck himself.”
[Dick stood up, straightened his shoulders like he was about to address the Galactic Senate, then immediately dropped back into his chair, burying his face in his hands]“Alright… alright… calm down, Dick… nothing’s lost yet…
Just a reminder, my dear gremlins:
Right here with me in the booth—
Jacqueline ‘Jackie’ Ro.Brilliant. Stunning.
And without exaggeration,
the best damn DJ in the entire UNIVERSE.This is the late-night podcast Night with Melody…“
[Jackie's voice settled into the broadcast softly, like an exhale after Dick's psychological breakdown]“…and Jackie Rho.”
[Dick was still chuckling, trying to regain control]“Right…
now let’s get back to—”
— RING-RING RING-RING—[A sound so dangerous that autonomous Edison™ space taxis trigger self-destruct protocols when attempting to recognize it—banned in twelve sectors]“Alright… hold up. I got a message.
And NO! NOT FROM TODD.
WORSE.
Another letter from CAS…
Yeah, you know them… Cosmic Academy of Sciences.
Those same basement-dwelling brainiacs who talk out of their asses
and keep whining about our jingle.”
[sound of opening a message in GOGLE SPACE-MAIL™]“Okay, okay… what do we got here?
‘Dear Radio Nebula 69.99 FTLM,
We regret to inform you that a new…
scientific alert has been identified.'”
[Jackie gasped sincerely—rating instantly +0.97%.
Dick sighed heavily and handed her the holo-phone]“Alright, baby, your territory. Read it.
These things give me depression—”
[Jackie cleared her throat, mimicking Dick's dramatic cadence]“Let’s see…
‘According to our latest research,
your radio show’s jingle is generating stochastic disturbances
in the torsion fields of BX-9 class pulsars.'”
[Dick cut in like a knife]“SEE?! I listen to this and I can literally feel my brain cells dying.”
[Jackie let out a quiet laugh—rating +2.46%]“‘We strongly recommend reducing the saxophone volume
to a level compatible with the fundamental laws of nature.Recent observations indicate that several pulsars in sectors B-71 and Z-14
have begun synchronizing their rotational frequency
with your signature jingle.One pulsar in sector X-81
is on the verge of collapsing into a black hole.'”
[Dick exploded]“…You’ve gotta be FUCKING kidding me?!”
[Jackie barely held it together]“‘As a result, we are observing
an unexplained transition of certain neutron stars
into swing rhythm mode.'”
[Jackie, softly, almost purring]“Pulsar swing… mmm… I’d listen to that~”
[Rating: +9.44%]“‘We urge you to IMMEDIATELY reduce saxophone output
by 12 decibels
or switch the jingle to “ballad mode.Failure to comply may result in a galactic phenomenon
tentatively designated as Jazz Nova.Please cease immediately.'”
[Jackie handed the holo-phone back.
Dick let out a long, heavy exhale, tanking the rating by –66.12%, leaving the total at –12%]“That’s it.
They’ve completely lost their damn minds.
Pulsars… dancing swing to our jingle?!”
[Jackie burst out laughing—rating spiked +17%, stabilizing at +5%]“Hey, swing is beautiful!
Let’s go, Butt Pimple!
Even pulsars are vibing to your ROCK! Wooo-hooo!”
[Rating suddenly jumped +49.01%]“Yeah, Baby, you’re actually cruel.
We’ve got astrophysicists crying out there,
pulsars about to collapse into black holes—
and you’re celebrating like you just hit a million followers!”
[Jackie giggled. The rating kept climbing like Zamazon™ stock after another scandal]“Alright, Dick…
maybe we drop a track before we continue the story?”
[Dick inhaled like he was about to receive a disciplinary notice titled "psychological death with no right to appeal]“What did Butt Pimple™ send this time…”
[He asked in the voice of a man who already knew the answer was pain.
Jackie giggled again. Rating +11.11%. Dick flinched like that percentage came out of his retirement fund]“So, Dick… and all our lovely gremlin listeners…
Exclusively, for the first time on galactic air—
GOLDEN DRUNK™ by BUTT PIMPLE™!“
[Before Dick could scream his desperate "NO NO NO WAIT—", Jackie hit the button][To Dick's surprise, the song wasn't the nightmare he expected.
Quite the opposite—he leaned back in his chair, raised a glass of Johnnie Wanker™,
and slowly nodded along, smiling like a man who'd just switched therapists for the first time in years and finally got a good one.
When the final notes faded, Dick straightened up to the mic like a resurrected pharaoh ready to rewrite human history]“Alright, Baby… I see you’ve got the script ready.
Hope you remember where we left off…
because I don’t remember SHIT…”
[Jackie handed him a stack of notes, pointing to where to start.
Dick nodded quietly and muttered, "Good thing I've got you…"
Not quietly enough.
The listeners heard.
The rating spiked so hard
Radio Nebula instantly jumped from #25 to #24 in the Top 25,
overtaking SpaceKid Academy™ with Kenny Coopspace™—
that same morning show where a glitter-covered bald Gravian screams every damn day: "PRAY, LITTLE ONE!
AND SEND YOUR C-BUX TO UNCLE KENNY!
GOD NEEDS A NEW SPACESHIP!]