INT. RECORDING STUDIO – EVENING

The radio booth sits empty.  CONNOR, THE INTERN sits in front of a large piece of electronic equipment, sipping coffee.  The PRODUCER sits in front of the exterior control panel, getting things ready for the evening’s broadcast. 

DJ 3000:  Oh, man!  I’m so excited.  It’s my first time flying solo on the radio!

CONNOR: Yup.

DJ 3000:  I know I’m a computer so it shouldn’t be theoretically possible for me to get nervous, but I am!  I feel like I’ve been waiting for this forever!  But that’s probably just because you guys overclocked my processor so my perception of time is twice as fast as everyone else.

CONNOR: Yup.

DJ 3000: Do you think this will be the first time in the history of the show that thing actually run smoothly?

CONNOR: Nope.

— [radio flies open] —

PILOT:  NINE-AH, NINE-AH.  THIS IS CAPTAIN FAHKING MICKEY PATRICK O’FLANAGAN OF FLIGHT FAHTY-SEVEN ENROUTE TO LOGAN INTAHNATIONAL.  IS ANYONE RECEIVING THIS TRANSMISSION?

PRODUCER: [muttering] What the hell?  [punches a button]  Captain O’Flanagan, this is…KDFO.  We’re a terrestrial radio station, why are you transmitting on this frequency?  You should be talking to flight control.

PILOT:  CAUSE OWAH FAHKING COMMS ARE JAMMED!  YOU GAWTA HELP US!  THE-AH’S THIS GUY IN THE CAWKPIT, HE SAYS IF WE DON’T PUBLICLY DENOUNCE THE GREATRIOTS, LIVE ON THE RADIO FOAH EVERYONE TO HEA-AH, HE’S GONNA BLOW US AWLL UP.

PRODUCER: [confused] What?

PILOT:  PLEASE! PUT US ON THE AI-AH!  I SWE-AH, HE’S GAWNA KILL US AWLL!

PRODUCER: I can’t just…

PILOT:  THE-AH ARE CHILDREN ON THIS PLANE!

PRODUCER: All right, all right, I’ll put you on the air…[punches a series of buttons]

There is the sound of scuffling in the background.

MUFFLED VOICE: Say it…

There is a long pause.

PILOT:  …NO.  I CAN’T.  I WON’T SAY IT!

MUFFLED VOICE: All right, you leave me no other option.  Looks like explosive decompression it is!

A thunderous noise blasts out of the speakers in the studio.

All the voices on in the cockpit burst into laughter.

PRODUCER: Oh, goddamnit, who the hell is this?

— [radio flies open] —

REX RYAN: HOW THE FUCK YOU DOIN’, FLYBOYS?

PRODUCER: Coach Ryan?

REX RYAN: That’s right, son!  I’m on my way up to Connecticut and I GOT BORED.  They say that pilots are a fun bunch, and you know what?  THEY WERE RIGHT. I hear you host a little radio show so I told these fellas to patch me on in.  Bring it in, boys.

The pilots of United Flight 47 bring it in.

REX RYAN: Now listen, men.  I know things are tough right now.  You got a million people jumping all over you just cause you LIKE TO PLAY PHYSICAL.  Someone gets his bell rung and all of a sudden everybody is screaming about lawsuits.  BUT THAT’S NOT HOW AIR TRAVEL IS SUPPOSED TO WORK FOR YOU FLYBOYS.  YOU GUYS GET IN THE PLANE, YOU KNOCK BACK A FEW SEVEN AND SEVENS, AND THEN IT’S TIME FOR A LITTLE COFFEE, TEA, OR ME AT THIRTY THOUSAND FEET.

REX RYAN slaps a stewardess on the ass, hard.

STEWARDESS: Ow!  Get your hands off me, you prick!

REX RYAN: So in tribute to you fellows, today’s Request Line theme is AIRPLANES AND THE MEN WHO FLY THEM.  Once these fellows are done flying the friendly skies they like to settle down and PRY OPEN A PAIR FRIENDLY THIGHS, ISN’T THAT RIGHT YOU SONSABITCHES!

PILOTS: THAT’S RIGHT COACH!

REX RYAN: I’ll get us started with one from Iron Maiden.  UP THE IRONS ON THREE!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=np8GaFHD9Lg