DJ Schlomotion

Schlomotion sits at the radio console and stares at the soft amber glow of the instrumentation his thick brow is furrowed in concentration and the anger is welling inside. The song, She brings the Rain by Can is quickly coming to an end, it ends and yet he stares emptily into the dead air as if the aether was somehow speaking to him in a soundless language that only he could understand. The silence drives a painful stake into the dark studio. The mic is live and through the crackling silence you can hear Schlomotion lick his cracked, bloody dry lips. Finally, “I can see you.” Then again, a stunning silence with the occasional pop and crack of the signal as it bounces from one solid structure to another. “You think I can’t see you but I can see you, you and your lover, you are both lying side by side, naked, panting. I can see your breath, you bitch, you fucking bitch.” Schlomotion’s heavy Israeli accent, grated to shreds by nicotine and crystal meth bites off the i-n-g and the t-c-h as if it was cut from his tongue, he goes on, “You will pay, yes you both will pay. I will teach you, you fucking cunt, I will teach you, you will pay.” Presently my pager massages my thigh with my invariable conscientiousness. I lamely excuse myself from the table, drop the quarter with a sigh and a slight “g-by” dial, wait. “Phelch?” “Yeah. Dave?” “Yeah, are you listening?” “No, I’m eating, what’s up?” “Where?” “Snatch and I are at Mini’s why?” “Which one?” “Belltown, why, what’s up?” “Dude, Schlomotion has totally lost his shit and he’s airing his dirty laundry, you better get to a radio quick!” “Who gives a fuck? If the dude wants to bitch[…]

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