Video; un: rtozier

[summertimeblues]

[The feed begins with a man in his late thirties, one hand welded to his forehead in consternation. Adjacent is a swanky looking turntable, and stacks of records can be seen on a table behind the sofa. The titles are indiscernible but it looks to be a ballpark of about fifty albums.

He stares into the camera, desolate.]

All right kids, I'll concede: my folks would have cracked my radio if they heard how much I let The Doors holler out of it. I know it's a pattern and every generation thinks the one after it is a tasteless pack of miscreants. And I've been keeping an open mind. I can't afford not to. Music was my job, and for the most part the stuff hitting the airwaves had been pretty solid. Whoever's been picking out tunes for me up above has been doing pretty damn swell so far, too. Soundgarden was great, Lauren Hill, the Alabama Shakes — there's a lot of good shit I've missed out on because my apocalypse hit so early.

[He takes a deep breath.]

But today, I need an explanation.

[He takes a record out of a sleeve. Sets it on the player and closes his eyes in bitter resignation as the thing gets rolling.

His jaw clenches tight as the music starts.

"Hiya Barbie!"
"Hi Ken!"
"Do you wanna go for a ride?"
"Sure Ken!"
"Jump in!"
"I'M A BARBIE GIRL! IN A BARBIE WO-O-ORLD! LIFE IN PLASTIC, IT'S FANTASTIC!!"

A comely but irate redheaded woman stomps into the background.]

If you don’t shut that off, there’s going to be cats clawing at our window to check out who’s dying!

[Richie rips the record off, vein pulsing in his forehead.]

Music is dying, Bev! It's over! We've lost the war!

[She scoffs, disappearing once more. Richie looks to the camera.

He snaps the record in two with a malicious crack and tosses the pieces behind him.]

I don't know who allowed this to happen, but you ought to be ashamed of yourselves.

[The video cuts out. Please deposit your apologies and condolences below.]

Comments

[summertimeblues]

If plastic didn't smell like the devil's ass hairs when you burn it, I'd host a bonfire. As it stands I'll be setting the remains out to sea.

Also Soundgarden is in a far better league than this rot.

[wallofbriggs]

That can't be any good for the sea life. I'm sure someone could use it for target practice though.

If you say so.

[summertimeblues]

Are you volunteering? I'll strap it to a carrier pigeon straight away, what's your address?

I do. I'm an authority on the matter.

[wallofbriggs]

If you have no other means of disposal, I'll be happy to take it off your hands. Some things should not be allowed to survive.

[summertimeblues]

I might have to take you up on that if "Star Lord" chickens out.

[wallofbriggs]

As long as it never gets played over this system, or anywhere in my hearing, again.

[summertimeblues]

Consider the honor yours, then. I'll even throw in a token of my appreciation.

[wallofbriggs]

And here I was going to do it for the good of humanity.

[summertimeblues]

Your courage in the face of danger has to be rewarded somehow.

[It would be so easy to follow that up with, "Shall I pick you up at eight?"

But this one...she seems like the kind to keep a riding crop on hand. And not for fun. So instead:]

What's your poison? If you're in Wyver I'll send you whatever's lacking. The wine up here is pretty good, for one.

[wallofbriggs]

[That all depends on your definition of fun.]

There's a place over on [insert street here] that brandy that's close to home. But a bottle is worth more than anything I'm doing.

[summertimeblues]

Then consider it a gift and call it a day. It's not a problem for me.

[wallofbriggs]

Fine. You can drop them both off at [insert some other address here...] then and I'll deal with it.

[summertimeblues]

You're a real Peach, I hope you know.

[It'll happen 4 real, bless u Olivier]

[wallofbriggs]

I don't think anyone has ever described me using fruit before.

[She's torn between "thanks" and "don't do that again".]

[summertimeblues]

Then they can't have been berry perceptive, you seem sweet as pie to me.

[WIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINK]

[wallofbriggs]

[Yeeeeeeah...]

Don't do that again.

[summertimeblues]

[The call ends with a raucous bout of laughter.

But she will find the brandy and the record's remains, soon enough. Around a day or two later, depends on the fleetness of the postman. Richie's seen fit to add in one ripe peach, tied up in a bow.

Enjoy.]

[wallofbriggs]

[It would honestly take too much effort to track his ass down right then and there, but she won't forget this.]