Free The Dangerous Kind & Other Stories by Robert Chazz Chute Page A

station.
    “Next caller! Gwen, you’re on with your new lord and saviour, Marcus in the Morning on 95.4, almost 95 and a half on your AM dial. What’s on your mind?”
    “This is Gwen.”
    “Yes, we know. Go ahead.”
    “Do you mean me? This is Gwen.”
    “Next caller. Bobby, Bobby, lay it on me!”
    “I’m a Christian, mister. Are you seriously saying God is a figment of my imagination?”
    “Exactly, Bobby, you’ve got it exactly right. He or she is a figment that’s draining away your life energy. Which Christian god do you believe in, by the way? The Old Testament god who’s always angry or the new testament God who took a chill pill who’s all about love except when He’s not?”
    “I believe in both the God of the New and Old Testaments.”
    “That’s no good. He’s supposed to be eternal and unchangeable so you really have to pick one. Get back to me on that and we’ll chat. Next caller!”
    The secretaries from the front desk appeared from the front office: Sheila and the other Sheila. The young one waved her arms while the old one slapped a pad of paper against the glass of his booth. He looked up and flashed them a grin. The paper read, “Thirty-six angry calls!” He gave both women an energetic thumbs-up and shooed them away. As soon as they turned their backs he pumped both his middle fingers at them.
    “Next up, Roger’s on Marcus in the Morning!”
    “All I got to say is right on, man!”
    “Nobody likes a suck up, Roger. I condemn you to the depths of hell for your impious thoughts about the hot check out lady at The Duck ’n Rush. She’s over eighty and deserves your respect, you utter pig!”
    Laughter. “Rock on, man. You’re my new god—”
    “ Blasphemer !” Marcus yelled as he hung up.
    “We’ve got to whip through these calls folks, because sometime soon Mr. Donegal is going to wake up from his morning nap and I’ll be off the air, so come on, Poeticule Bay, let’s have a little intellectual rigour before I blow out of this town for a little place I like to call Anytown Better, USA! I can see by the jammed lines that you have the number so let’s go to line two with Betty. Betty, what do you have to contribute to our religious discussion?”
    Silence. Then he heard a tell-tale echo and hung up on Betty. “Betty is in love with the idea that she’ll hear herself on the radio someday. If you’re going to talk to me, you’ll have to turn down your radio. Betty, get over yourself. Buy a tape recorder and you’ll be able to hear yourself all day long without bugging the sh —um, bugging me. Whoops. With that breach of on-air etiquette we go to, line three. The queue says this is Burt.”
    “This is Burt.”
    “You’re off to a slow start, Burt. My divine finger is reaching out, much like in that famous painting of God giving life to Adam. The difference is, my finger’s over the button that will send you to oblivion. What’s your story, Burt?”
    “I killed my daughter.”
    Marcus spaced out a moment. “Tell me more,” he said finally. 
    “You’re saying God doesn’t exist, but I made a deal with Him. I prayed like crazy and…”
    “Back up there, cowboy. How’d you kill your daughter?”
     
     
     
    Marcus wasn’t sure if he should believe his caller and had his hand poised over the dump button, watching the clock hands skim around. “C’mon, Burt. Don’t leave us hanging. Who’d you kill?”
    “I liked you better when you just let Johnny Cash sing.”
    “Johnny didn’t sing. He talked his way through his songs and somehow nobody seemed to notice. What happened to your daughters, Burt?”
    “Genie showed up at Audrey’s hospital bed drunk one night after she’d disappeared for three days. Genie ran away a lot. Anyway, Audrey didn’t mind, but Audrey was like that. Nothing phased her and she was just glad to see her sister. Audrey was always sunny…even acted pretty chipper fighting the Big C. Anyway, I chewed out Genie and Audrey got all