Pump Up the Volume Page #5

This is Happy Harry Hard-on.

You're live.

Is this Miss Screwed Up?

I have a couple of questions.

How big is this thing

you described?

Is it bigger than a baby's arm?

You don't remember

or you don't want to tell me?

Or maybe you made

this whole thing up, huh?

Remember, my dear...

I can smell a lie

like a fart in a car.

it's too bad

about that one, actually.

You see, to me...

the real truth

is always a bigger turn-on...

and it doesn't have

to be a big deal.

lt could be anything.

Malcolm, have you finished

your homework yet?

Your father and l

are downstairs watching TV.

Why don't you come down

and join us for once?

All right, Malcolm.

Have it your way.

Thanks.

So, I don't know.

Send me your most pathetic

moment, your most anything.

As long as its real.

I want the size, the shape,

the feel, the smell.

I mean I want blood, sweat,

and tears on these letters.

I want brains and ectocasm

and come spilled all over 'em!

Hallelujah!

And now,

all my horny listeners...

get one hand free, because...

Yes, the "eat me,

beat me" lady is back.

"Come in.

"Every night, you enter me

like a criminal.

"You break into my brain...

"but you're

no ordinary criminal.

"You put your feet up

and you pop a Pepsi...

"you start to party,

you turn up my stereo...

"songs l've never heard,

but I move anyway.

"You get me crazy. I say do it.

"I don't care what. Just do it.

"Jam me, jack me,

push me, pull me, talk hard."

I like that.

Talk hard.

I like the idea that a voice

can just go somewhere...

uninvited...

just kind of hang out...

like a dirty thought

in a nice, clean mind.

Maybe a thought

is like a virus, you know?

lt can kill

all the healthy thoughts...

and just take over.

That would be serious.

That would be totally serious.

Yeah. I know that

all of my horny listeners...

would love it if I would call up

the "eat me, beat me" lady...

but no!

Because she never

encloses her number.

Tough luck, creepoid.

Always the same red paper...

the same beautiful

black writing.

Now, she's probably

a lot like me--

a legend in her own mind.

But you know what?

I bet in real life,

she's probably not that wild.

I bet she's kind of shy...

like so many of us,

briskly walking the halls...

pretending to be late

for some class...

pretending to be distracted.

Hey, poetry lady,

are you really this cool?

Are you out there?

Are you listening?

I'm always out here.

I feel like I know you,

and yet we'll never meet.

So be it.

Here's a song from my close

personal buddies back east--

The Beastie Boys.

This is a song

that was so controversial...

they couldn't put it

on their first album.

Add a little night light.

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