fandomtownies | Fandom Radio: Profits and Prophecy, 3-6 pm FST

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$pirate radio

Fandom Radio: Profits and Prophecy, 3-6 pm FST

Anyone listening to the local radio station would find that their normal Sunday afternoon broadcast was suddenly interrupted by the raucous sounds of a Klingon opera. Not that Quark was particularly fond of Klingon opera, he just thought it made for a dramatic entrance. The sound faded, and his voice spread across the airwaves.

"Hello and welcome to Profits and Prophecy, your new Sunday afternoon mainstay on Fandom Radio. Each week, I'll be here to play a few requests, interview a guest, and accept call-ins from you listeners. But if any of you try to get me to talk about your stupid hoo-mon love lives, you'll be cut right off. That's an entirely different program. But beyond matters of the hormonal, you will all find that I'm more than willing to listen and answer whatever you have to ask.

Now, as this is my first week, I've no special guest for the afternoon. So today I'll be taking call-in questions about me personally. That's right, ask whatever you want about your humble and handsome host. But to start us all off, here's a little number I think you'll all enjoy. Shakira says her hips don't lie, but given she's a female, I'm betting that she lies with everything else. Here's that song, coming at you here on Fandom Radio."

[ooc: ~~Wait for OCD, please~~ Have at it!]

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"You name it, and I play it. Got a dedication, and I'll make sure the world knows. Just don't get too mushy, or the pirate will think I'm infringing on his schtick."

"So, here's your big chance. Find out about the best-dressed being in Fandom. The legend that is me."

Barbossa couldn't help it. He called in. "Wit' yer handsome-like demeanor 'n key fashion sense, how ye be stuck in a place like Fandom?"

"You say that like there's no opportunity for profit here," Quark said. "This town provides plenty of opportunities for me to exploit. And it beats having to deal with the Bajorans."

Barbossa laughed. "Aye, ye be havin' a point, thar. Mummy repelant 'n pudding-resistant umbrellas be a bit o' a niche market, but I think ye could be workin' them both around here."

"Exactly," Quark said. "A good businessman can make a killing here. Figuratively speaking, of course."

"Well, literally, too, if ye be havin' the right permits, o' course," Barbossa replied.

"Dealing in death is a business I avoid, myself," Quark said.

"More fer me, then, I be supposin'," Barbossa said, laughing. "Not that it be me primary source o' income at all, but a pirate can't afford t'be picky most days."

"Quite," Quark said. "You have any more questions, caller?"

Barbossa thought about it. "I be good," he said. "Thank ye!"

Ellie decided to call in. "How far away is your homeworld?" she asked.

"It's still in the Alpha Quadrant, but I have no idea how many light years away it is," Quark said. "It would be a rather unfortunately long trip with my shuttle, actually. Not to mention I'd be showing up at a time before I've even been born."

"I assume your world is comparable to Earth?" Ellie went on. "Same type of atmosphere and gravity?"

"Class M, of course," Quark said. "But with more rain."

"And your race is the dominant species?"

Quark chuckled. "Everywhere we go."

"How long ago did life develop on your world?" Ellie asked, the double entendre going over her head.

Quark gave his ~~hand-wavey~~ answer. "That's as far back as our history extends, at least."

Ellie asked several more ~~handwavey~~ scientific questions and mulled over the ~~handwavey~~ answers. Then she asked, "What about life on Earth have you found the hardest to adapt to?"

"The food here is terrible," Quark said with a chuckle. "You can't get a decent tube grub in any of the local restaraunts."

"Tube grub? I'm afraid to ask," Ellie said. "What's it like?"

"Ferengi cuisine, on the whole, is more about crunchy than anything else. Crunchy and slimey are the two words I'd use."

"Interesting," Ellie said. "Can you get it imported at all?"

"Part of the reason I came here was to get away from any sort of Ferengi business," Quark said. "So no."

"That's a shame," Ellie said. "I'd love to try it sometime."

Quark chuckled. "You say that now. But once a hoo-mon actually sees Ferengi food, they normally leave the room."

"I'm open to new experiences," Ellie said. "A scientist has to be."

"Well, caller, contact me when I'm not on the air. We'll see what we can arrange," he said.

"Maybe I'll do just that," Ellie said. "Thank you, Quark. It's been interesting talking to you."

"Any time, ma'am," Quark replied.

"But enough about me. I'm sure you all have burning questions about how to make your business more profitable, or what color you should paint your pet beetle. You've got questions, I've got answers."

Artie called. "Mortimer would like a make-over. What color should I paint him?"

"With a name like Mortimer," Quark replied. "You've got a good, solid, worker. So you go with a color equally strong and hard. I'd go with orange. Or if he's already orange, a nice bright blue."

"Orange and blue, eh? Excellent! Thank you, Mr. Quark!"

"No, thank you, caller," Quark said. "You have a wonderful and profitable day."

"And a pipe day to you as well!"

"Hey, long-time listener, first-time caller here. Do you have any clue if a zombie can play the saxophone?"

"In my experience, the question you should really be asking yourself is would you even want to hear a zombie play the saxophone," Quark replied.

"He's been leaving hints all over the stage that he wants one. Catalogs with saxophones circled and all that. I just don't want to make the investment without knowing if he can do it," GOB said.

"Does he still have lips and lungs?" Quark asked.

"Kind of?" GOB said. "He has half a lip. I'm not checking the lungs, though."

"Well, I'm no musical expert, but I'm betting half a lip won't cut it. And there's no profit in half a decent sax player."

"I'll consider that. Thanks."

Because everything needs an OOC thread.

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Fandom Radio: Profits and Prophecy, 3-6 pm FST

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OOC