“You’re listening to 96.5 The Vibe, bringing you the best hits from the Eighties, Nineties, and to-day!”

Indistinct speech.

“Not now, Emily, we’re on the air.”

Indistinct speech.

“Bringing you the best hits from the Eighties, Nineties, um, Two Thousands? and to-day!”

Indistinct speech.

“Bringing you the best hits from the Eighties, Nineties, Two Thousands, Twenty Tens, and to-day!”

Indistinct speech.

“Whaddaya mean, of course we play songs from the Eighties.”

Indistinct speech, and a pause.

“You know what? Fine. Bringing you the best hits from the Nineties, Two Thousands, Twenty Tens, and to-day!”

Indistinct speech, and a loud sigh.

“Bringing you the best hits from the Two Thousands, Twenty Tens, and to-day! Coming up next—”

Indistinct speech.

“Okay what now? Also get your hands off, that’s my good shirt.”

Indistinct speech.

“Kid, literally nobody calls it that.”

Indistinct speech.

“Yes, but no.”

Indistinct speech.

“Bringing you the best hits from the Twenty Hundreds, Twenty Tens, and to-day? Come on, Em, do you hear how stupid that sounds?”

Indistinct speech.

“From the Hundreds, Tens, and to-day? Hey look at how many listeners we’re alienating—”

Indistinct speech.

“I said, stop it with the tugging!”

Indistinct speech.

“You know what? I’ve fucking had it with you. Get the fuck out of my studio, you annoying little—”

A loud crash, shouting, fisticuffs, glass breaking, and other alarums and excursions. Silence. Tapping on a microphone.

“Hey, this is your new host, Emily! You’re listening to 96.5 The Vibe, bringing you the best hits from the Twenty-Oh-Four to Twenty-Eleven Period, the Twenty-Sixteen to Twenty-Eighteen Period, March 2020, June to November 2021, and to-day!”