FOT Forum
FOT Community => General Discussion => Topic started by: JustinL on December 29, 2009, 06:56:05 PM
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The Best Show Ends
For the last time Tom eased the turntable fader up, removed his headphones and placed them on the desk. As he rose from the well-worn chair they slipped and dangled from their cable, the faint tones of Tom's final cut strained to be heard.
"Just a city boy, born and raised in South Detroit,
He took the midnight train going anywhere."
Tom took a last look at the sweltering studio. Was it a passive-aggressive management decision or the inevitable irony of fate that had forced him to do his final show in The Submarine? Tom neither knew nor cared. He did not pick up the headphones and did not look back as he made for the door.
Outside the studio Tom saw Mike, his head bowed, huddled over the phone bank with only his magnificent mane of silver hair in view. Mike looked up at Tom, his moist red eyes could not hide the hurt.
"Tom" Mike began, "I, I..." but could not finish, choking on his own words.
Tom wanted this moment to be over. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a thick wad of hundred dollar bills, he almost tossed them into Mike's lap but instantly held back. Mike's faithful and unwaivering service had earned much more than Tom's respect, he had deservedly and unambitiously risen way above his call screener status; Mike was the archetypal butler turned confidant, the secretary turned indispensable advisor. Tom knew that without him the show would have ended long ago.
"I..." Mike tried again but this time the words were interrupted by the flow of tears.
"I know," Tom said gently putting the money in front of Mike and placing his hand firmly upon Mike's shoulder, "and thanks Buddy. Thanks for everything."
As he turned the corner towards the elevator he could hear Mike sobbing. By the time the elevator arrived the sobbing had become a full blown wail.
The wailing muted as the elevator doors closed and faded to nothing as Tom descended to the lobby.
"Oh, the movie never ends,
It goes on and on and on and on."
The music drifted away as Tom closed the front door behind him. He stood for a second and let the crisp, fresh Jersey air fill his lungs.
Momentarily at peace he began the half block walk to his car. His mind skimmed over the last decade. He thought about the beginning and how he could never have dreamt how successful the show would become. He thought about how, looking back, he could never now contemplate that the show could ever be unsuccessful. Nevertheless he had gone out on top.
He thought about the friends who had come and gone. He thought about those that were still there. So many memorable experiences. Could he really let all that go?
Tom caught himself, this was no time for doubts.
"All things must pass" he said out loud, "All things must pass."
He climbed into his car and thrust the key into the ignition. The car sprang to life.
"Don't stop believin',
Hold on to that feelin'."
He shut off the radio. His hands shook as he gripped the wheel.
It was no use, as much as he wanted to walk away he knew he couldn't. It wasn't even a sudden realization, it was an indomitable truth he'd tried to suppress and that had now suddenly bubbled to the surface.
Tom knew he was only truly free on Tuesday nights between the hours of 8 and 11pm, it was a core component of his being, without the show he was nothing.
He owed it to the fans, he owed it to himself and he owed it to Mike, dear sweet Mike.
Tom leapt from his car, the memory of Mike's sobbing echoed in his mind. He had to go back, tell Mike everything would be OK.
As Tom hurried back towards the station door he felt reborn, his mind swam with possibilities, maybe not at this station, maybe not even on the radio, but somehow, in some form the Best Show on WFMU would live as long as there was breath in his body.
Tom felt a sharp pain in his right leg. His knee buckled and hit the sidewalk, closely followed by his head.
Momentarily stunned he slowly regained his senses. His head buzzed, his leg was wet. He felt something hard and heavy in the back of his neck. Then a voice, unmistakably familiar but changed - deeper, fuller, crazier.
"Catch you on da flipping side Tommy."
A pop. Then stars. Then Nothing.
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Eeek.
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What a beautiful tribute.