WNED Radio Transcript / Joe Bruce

The following is a transcript from Swath Wardmorth's radio show, "Except it isn't Easy," briefly broadcast in Barrel Springs, Nevada during January of 1954. The show enjoyed moderate popularity before a sudden cancellation due to Wardmorth's disappearance, or, as he predicted on his show, his "evanescence."

Transcript:

Welcome back to WNED AM where we have what you need. I’m Swath Wardmorth. Midnight approaches and I envision listeners out there seeking solace in the airwaves, covering their eyes from ghosts, wishing for reveries. I’m here as the voice you wish. Let me be your monologue, your helping hand. Except this isn’t a clandestine dinner party we’re discussing, is it? This isn’t about sparkling chandeliers. It’s about fusion charged sun rays shattering through universe specks of floating dust. So you can hear me. So you’re listening. You can’t have it all, but you can have every single thing on your grocery list. You can have the limited territorial space of your only residence. Exceptional options mean decision. Option 1: a forlorn destiny through a keyhole. Option 2: the road that leads to nowhere. Option 3: a snifter of brandy by the fire on a winter’s night. Please excuse the irreality of backtracking. I can’t flow without an exit ticket. Wouldn’t it be spectacular to reinvent a drama, to redo an equal and opposite reaction? We have a caller. Hello?

Swath?

Always speaking, always listening.

Tell me about tomorrow, Swath.

As the clock strikes twelve, tomorrow becomes today. I couldn’t imagine a more appropriate extravagance. The calendar has so many new episodes. I like the exquisite taste of fish if it’s been cooked correctly, if it’s been cooked necessarily. A delicious tendency is to bend frequently. Another caller. Hello?

Mr. Wardmorth?

Swath. Always speaking, always listening.

It’s all a game, right Swath?

A game is a venue for pleasant enterprise. I can’t completely deny the existence of instructions. Flowers grow in a way that’s remarkably sensible as defined by ontological dance moves. Otherwise, I would insist on the new and improved version. Greetings from outer space is a secret desire. If only I had sensible shoes. I’ll hang up all phones. No one can reach me now. It’s just the voiceless universe and all you out there shouting at the mirror. Time to sign off, time to mute, time to change to static. Listen for a spell before you turn me off because if not you’ll drift away. Until next time, this is Swath Wardmorth breathing fire. Goodnight.