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KZAP's Psychedelic Sunday
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[ KZAP - 98.5 FM - Sacremento Area, California ]
Ring Ring . . . Ring Ring . . . Ring Ring . . . Ri
[click]
"Hello, KZAP's Psychedelic Sunday."
"Uuuuuuh, hello?"
"Yes, Psychedelic Sunday on KZAP. Can I help you?"
"Ooohh WOW man, I'm rappin' with the dude! Killer!"
"CAN I HELP YOU?"
"Oh yeah, man. I'd like to make a song request . . . wait a sec, okay?
(caller's voice in background) HEY MAN! Dude! I was savin' them 'shrooms for
the Dead concert. Oh man! Where am I gonna score some more before tomorrow?
Dude, this is some shit, man. OOOH! The dude's on the phone! Wait a minute!
(sound of phone being fumbled) (voice comes to foreground) Hello?"
"Hello! Can I he-"
"Yeah . . . uuuuhhhhh . . . uuuhhhhhhhhh . . OH YEAH! I wanna make a song . .
Oh man, hold on a sec . . . (voice in background) Dude! That's a killer pipe!
Where'd you get that? . . . Oh, I know that store . . . Fifteen bucks? Shit,
That'za killer deal, man. Dude, fifteen bucks won't even get you an eighth
of shake! (Unless you deal with Mexicans!) Oh yeah, Oh man! The dude's still
on the phone! (sound of phone dropped from table) HELLO?! HELLO?! HELLO?!
YOU STILL THERE?!"
"Yeessss . . ."
"Killer!"
(5 seconds of silence)
"KZAP'S PSYCHEDELIC SUNDAY!! CAN-I-HELP-YOU?!!"
"Oh wow, man! Don't yell into the phone like that! Shit man, I'm blind in
one ear now! Dude, that sucks! My stereo is gonna sound like shit! Why'd ya
hafta yell in the phone like that? All I did was call you guys to . . . AH!
YEAH! I wanna make a sond reques . . . oh, just a second man. (voice in
background) Hey, hey! HEY! Ya you, man. Dude, line me up. Yeah . . . did you
get that from your ex? Oh, I hope it ain't cut with powdered glass! Dude,
she was hella pissed when you took off on here. I bet she misses her stereo,
heh heh heh. Yeah . . . ooohh man, I left the dud on the phone again. Hold
on . . . (voice comes to foreground) HEY! Hold on while I do this line!
(sound of phone dropped from great height hitting a stone floor) (voice in
foreground) Sniff, sniiiiiiiff, snif! ssssssssssssssnnif! snert! snort!
SNEEEERRRRRFFT! SNNNNNNnnnnnNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOORRRTTTT! SNIFF! SNIFF! OH
DUDE! IT WAS CUT WITH DRANO!!! That BITCH! You stupid, STUPID muthafawka.
Oh man! Here comes the DRAIN! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
ssssSSSSSNNNNNNNNNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHWCK!
HAWWWWWWWWWK-*SPLAT*! OHDUDETHATWASHELLAGROSS!!!!!! Dude, you're gonna
need a putty-knife to get that one off the wall, Hahahahahaha. But dude! It
serves your right! Your ex-bitch tried to poison us! Maaaaaan, shit. OH! That
dude's still on the phone. [CLATTER!] Hello? D.J. dude! You there?"
"Yes I am."
"Oh killer! I wanna make a song re . . . Oh shit! Just a second, man . . .
(voice to background) DUDE! You held that mirror up where the D.J. dude
could see it on the phone. Keep it down! That dude will see it and call the
drug police. That would suck, man. (voice to foreground) You know, some
people say coke makes you paranoid. I disagree as will the hundreds of
people who listen to my phone calls through taps . . ."
"Pardon?"
"Nothin' man. Yeah, check it out; I wanna make a song request."
"Yeeeeesss?"
"Uhhhhhh . . . Hold on a second . . . [clatter!] Duuuuuuuude! Where'd
you get the 'cid? Kil-ler! Two? FOR EACH OF US? Oh RIGHT on! Let's doo it!
See ya in Fryland! Oh, the D.J. dude . . . HELLO? HELL . . ."
"YES!"
"Oh right on. Okay, this is the scene man. I wanna make . . . oh, just . . .
just a second man (voice to background) Where did you say you got this fry from?
Your ex, Uh-oh. Dude, this isn't good. This isn't good as all. Oh man. Shit.
That fuckin' bitch. She wasn't satisfied just to fuck you, nooOOOOooo, she
has to take one of your friends down, too. Oh that bitch. Dude, if we live
through this, I'm gonna kill your ex, I swear! That bitch is about to become
a statistic. Maaaaan, I'm gonna run over her with a semi. Yup, SPLAT! Dude,
she might make the cover of Calivornia Highway Patrolman magazine! She'll be
right up there with some guy whose volkswagon got run over by a 747. OHHHHH!
The dude . . . (voice in foreground). Is this KZAP's Psychedelic Sunday?"
"Uh-huh"
"Dude, I wanna make a s . . . WHOA! JUSTASECOND! (voice yelling in
background) Dude! DUDE! Kill that big ol' fuckin' spider over there! QUICK!
. . . WHaddayamean 'Which one?'?! The big black bastard the size of a
cocker spaniel that's chasing those fuzzy pink things. Yeah, THAT ONE! There
ya go! No dude, I don't have a shotgun . . . hit it with the fuckin' broom!
[SHWAATHUMBP!] Aww you missed! Dude . . . Dude! It's hella pissed, dude!
Aw shit! CALL 9-1-1! CALL 9-1-1! Tell 'em we got a big ol' fucking spider
hangin' on our wall and it's pissed off because we . . . no, because YOU
tried to hit it with a broom. Oh! And don't say anything about drugs. Them
people are cops and they'll call the drug police and that'll suck. And dude!
Ask them if they know the number of 'information' because I forgot it. Fuck
it! I'll call them. [CLATTER!] HELLO?!! HELLO?!! 9-1-1?!!"
"This is KZAP's Psychedelic Sund . . ."
"Ow wow man! Dude, I didn't know 9-1-1 connected to you dudes! Right on!
Now I won't have to keep lookin' your number up. That's cool, dude, because
I wanna make a song request."
"And that is?"
"Huh?"
"WHAT SONG DO YOU WANT TO HEAR?"
(4 seconds of silence)
"DUDE! Now I'm blind in the other ear, too! I told you not to yellinto
the phone. And you scared this big ol' fuckin' spide . . . Oh, I'm sorry
dude! I forgot you can't say 'fucking' on the radio. Awww wow. Oh Jesus,
this is some prime fry. Ahhhhh. I'm hella wasted. (voice goes to background)
Dude, are you fryin'? Yeah, this is some good shit. I might not kill your
ex after all. Oh! Where'd that spider go? The wombat ate him . . . Thazz
cool. What do wombats eat? Womflyinginsects. Oooohhhhhh . . . I always
wondered about that. Let's turn on the radio and listen to some toons. I
think Psychedelic Sunday is on. Oh! The dude on the phone. You turn on
the radio and I'll talk to the dude . . . (clatter)(voice comes to
foreground) HELLO?!?! HELLOHELLOHELLOHELLOHELLOHELLOHELLOHELLOHELLOHELLOHELLO
HLOLOOEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIE
EIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIEIE (feedback at 500 watts)
"OH SHIT DUDE! WHERE'D YOUR EX GET THIS FRY?! OHMYFUCKINGGAWD!"
(feedback fades)
"TURN DOWN YOUR RADIO!" (omnipresent and thunderingly loud)
"Dude! God's telling us to turn down the radio! Maybe he doesn't like
60's music . . . HEY! HEY GOD! YOU WANNA HEAR SOME SABBATH?!! I GOT SOME
STRYPER! I GOT 'HOUSES OF THE HOLY'! MAYBE A LITTLE PRIEST? Awwwwww! This is
some hella fry!! Next time I see your ex, I won't kid her about having
'a rainbow of kids'. Hey, you know what? God sounds a lot like the D.J.
on Psychedelic Sunday. Whatta trip. OH! I bet that dude's still on the
phone . . . (voice from foreground) HELLO? KZAP DUDE? HEY . . ."
"(exhausted) Yeah?"
"Dude! God sounds like you! I'm not bullshittin'! My friend and I dropped
some fry we got from my friend's ex-wife. She's usually a real bitch and
we thought she might give us screwed fry bug it was too late by then because
we had already dripped it. And God told us to turn our radio down! AND HE
SOUNDED JUST LIKE YOU!"
"That was ME, you idiot!"
(stunned silence)
"(voice in background) Dude! GOD WORKS AT K-ZAP! Oh right on! Cool deal!
Let's ask him for a CD player! Yeah! YEAH! Let's get a CD player!! (excited
clatter)(voice comes to foreground) God?! GOD! HEY! HEY! Check it out: Dude!
We want a CD player. And some kill speakers. Oh, and a tuner, too. Mine's
blown. Oh, and hey! Dude, how about a graphic equalizer? OH! HEY! (secretively)
Can we get some buds? Like, maybe a few pounds? Indice? Kill green?
And how about a kilo of good meth crank. Yeah, YEAH. That'd be good. AND
a 10,000 hit bial of lsd-25? Sure! And a few kilos of opium. Oh, and some
hash! Just a few poinds of the black tar kind. Oh coke! We NEED coke.
Uhh . . . 25 tons oughta be enough. Dude. God. Do you think you could
get that for us?"
"THIS IS OFFICER HAGGERDY OF THE D.E.A., WE'RE TRACING YOUR LINE . . ."
"(dissapointed voice in the background) Dude! God's a NARC!"
"(noise in background of radio station) Just do whatever you need to
to keep him on the line . . ."
"HEY GOD!"
"K-ZAP's Psychedelic Sunday . . ."
"Uh, yeah, God? Yeah . . . OH! I gotta song request . . . AWWWW! (voice
to background) It wasn't God, man. It was the D.J. Oh man, we're not
gonna get the CD. HEY! Maybe the K-ZAP dude will give us one! (voice to
foregrount) Hey! K-ZAP DUDE! I gotta quest . . ."
"No."
"OH WOW MAN! I didn't know you had E.S.P. . . . Oh hey, do you take song
requests?"
"Yeeeeeeessss . . ."
"Cool. I gotta song request . . ."
"What can I ge tyou? Some Floyd? A little Dead? Some Jimmi, perhaps?"
"Naaw, man. I wanna hear, 'Funky Cold Medina' by Ton-Loc."
"D.E.A. voices in background) Almost got him!"
. . . . . . . S-L-A-M!!!
[CLINK!]
"Awwww, dude! The K-Zap dude hung up on me! Whadda asshole! Shit, Hey!
Let's call up 93 Rock and ask for Madonna songs! Sometimes they play 'em
Just so we'll leave 'em alone. YEAH! And after that, we'll call up the
public radio station and ask to hear Ozzy and Metallica! Right on! Shit,
it's gonna be hard to top that next Sunday. I home them D.E.A. dudes didn't
get a trace. That'd be a bitch.
"Hey! We'll call the C&W station and ask for some skinhead music. They
get so pissed that hey call out this radio preacher to swear at us over
the airwaves. Ha ha haha haahahahahahahahahaaa!"