It's Hammer time.

I always considered it a matter of professionalism and personal pride not to break my focus on the air, no matter what was happening around me.  Throughout the years, I have let myself down a few times.  One day as I was reading a news story on the radio, I glanced up and there, directly in my line of sight, was a co-worker, bent over with his pants around his ankles, attempting to press his hairy, naked backside against the control room window.  And so it began . . .

Once these games began, the pranks could go on for years and the best ones always escalated.  There were times, when logic dictated, that it was best to call a cease fire and temporarily suspend the game.  But radio personalities rarely let logic dictate. 

I worked with a newsman that was legendary as being unbreakable on the air.  Apparently, no one had ever been able to make him laugh or cause him to miss a beat.  Hearing that just aroused my competitive spirit.  So, of course, I enlisted the help of a young male intern, working for free, because he thought radio was an exciting career with unlimited growth potential.  On some level, I felt a little guilty involving him, but he looked up to me and I thought this could be entertaining.

The perfect opportunity presented itself when Old Mr. Stoneface was seated at a table in the middle of a newscast.  His news copy was on a stand directly in front of the table, similar to how sheet music is placed on a music stand in front of a musician.  My naive accomplice approached the newscaster from behind and, standing next to the table, unzipped his pants and placed his ‘unit’ on the tabletop.  With the reflexes of a gunslinger, the newscaster brought his fist down like the hammer of Thor. 

I was truly impressed that Stoneface didn't even smile.  I knew then, that I was in the presence of greatness.  I can honestly say I have never heard a newscast like that one.  He continued reading the news quite authoritatively and then, broadcasting over the air, there was a sudden loud thud, followed by a high-pitched scream, the sound of a body hitting the carpeted floor and then lots and lots of muffled moaning.  All the while, my new radio idol continued to read the news without pause or hesitation.

For reasons unknown, the intern never returned to the station.  I wasn't overly worried about him because by the time he got up off the floor, his whimpering had slowed to an almost inaudible groan, he walked with very little of my assistance to his car and he was able to drive away.  No, I didn’t worry about him reporting the events of that day to anyone.  Seriously, whom would he tell?  His Mother?  The Federal Communications Commission? 

I think not.