#intern phil

[beaconhillsradio]

[transcript d]

Apparently, intern Phil has taken a sabbatical to reconsider his future in radio.

We here at the station wish intern Phil all the very best and hope that whatever he is looking for in life finds him first. His coffee will be missed: Station Management has gotten very particular about their order and more than one employee here at Beacon Hills Community Radio has tragically been eaten as a result.

It takes a certain athletic flexibility to launch the cup accurately while simultaneously running away, but intern Stiles seems to have the trick of it now. He's sorry to hear that Greenberg got sick and all, he's the new replacement, um, intern... guy. Sent by the company? Y'know, that company. With the interns. The intern, um, company. Yeeaaah. Anyway, have you seen Danny around anywhere? Nice guy, dimples, he used to host this radio show?

Listeners, I'd like to take a moment to thank The Intern Company for their sponsorship of our little station; your interns are - as always - invaluable, and infinitely replaceable.

The Intern Company: for when you can't pay them to do it.

[beaconhillsradio]

[3.5]

I cannot believe my eyes listeners, an astonishing thing has happened! Back-lit by the emergency lights, and the remaining small fires, a figure has emerged from the darkness.

I must amend my previous report: Intern Phil is not--I REPEAT: NOT--dead! He does look a little beaky though, said Mrs Bilges from the dance studio across the hall, who has quite kindly lent us her fire extinguisher. Not peaky dear, beaky, doesn't that look like a beak?

I wasn't going to comment really, as it looked like intern Phil has been trying to grow a beak for some time and it was quite patchy there for a while, which would be rude to point out, but I must say that the beak is coming in quite handsomely now.

[beaconhillsradio]

[Transcript 3]

Station Management is also participating in the Night Vale Cross-Cultural Program, listeners--at least, I think it is Station Management down the hall. I admit it is hard to tell, having never gazed upon the countenance of Station Management itself, but something in how the lights dim and flicker with the strange harmonics of the roaring could make me very nearly believe I am back in the halls of my very own radio station in Night Vale.

I mention this because intern Phil, who I have inherited along with the Beacon Hills station, has been looking pale and overwrought for the last few days. And not moments ago, overcome by some sort of diligent fervor while delivering coffee and muttering the Intern's Pledge in a determined voice ("Not photocopiers, nor lack of pay, nor shouting, nor getting lost on my first day, shall keep me from my appointed duties") intern Phil has just opened Station Management's door.

Ladies. Gentlemen. Never have I seen such a demonstration of bravery and conscientiousness in an intern... and I still have not, because I am now hiding behind a pot plant and averting my eyes.

From those of us here at the station, we send our condolences to the Greenberg family, and pray to unnamed gods that we will be passed over by the inexorable rage of Station Management.