EUGENE WOODS: Listeners, welcome back.
JACK HOLDEN: Hello, everyone.
EUGENE WOODS: Now, we’ve got a bit of alarming news for you.
JACK HOLDEN: Hey, let’s not oversell it, big horse.
EUGENE WOODS: Alarming news, listeners. If you’ve been tuning in to Radio Abel for a while, you’ve probably come to the conclusion that we’re not only the best post-civilization radio show, but the only post-civilization radio show.
JACK HOLDEN: Oh! Ego, much?
EUGENE WOODS: Says the man with the monogrammed underwear?
JACK HOLDEN: Ouch! Zing! I give up. Pray, continue, dear friend.
EUGENE WOODS: So, you may be thinking that we here at Radio Abel have a total monopoly on the airwaves, the only surviving transmitter, and are the only two people handsome and talented enough to do this kind of thing on a regular basis.
JACK HOLDEN: This is not so. At least, certainly not in Eugene’s case. [EUGENE WOODS slaps JACK HOLDEN] Ow!
EUGENE WOODS: Rude though he may be, listeners, my feckless and stinky co-host is right about one thing. We are not alone. The air around Abel is in fact alive with other signals, teeming with other voices, and music, and stories. They’re weird, they’re wonderful, and some are downright heart-breaking. But beginning today, on Abel Radio, we’ll be bringing you some of the best. Our own homemade highlight reel. Up first, a personal favourite of mine.
JACK HOLDEN: Oh, I think he’s creepy, to be honest.
EUGENE WOODS: [announcer voice] A personal favourite of mine, the Shakespeare of fear, the Howard Hughes of alarming news, the Hunter S. Thompson of don’t turn that light on, it’s Father Michael!
JACK HOLDEN: How long did you spend writing that?
EUGENE WOODS: Do you like it?
JACK HOLDEN: Oh, absolutely, Mister Zaltzman. [whispers] Weirdo.