Grooglez pulled the '43 Ford Truck directly in front of the Hotel Carver. By the time he was able to reach over to unlock the passenger door, the doorman had Premier nestled into the car, dry as Eleanor Roosevelts pussy when good ol' FDR was diagnosed with poliomyelitis, whatever the fuck that was.

"It's fucking pouring like  one of those typhoons in the Pacific during the war you keep telling me about. How are you not soaking wet?" Grooglez uttered as he put the truck into gear and drove off. "I would have grabbed the Cadillac instead if I knew you weren't going to ruin the interior"

"You treat the doorman like you treat the hostess, like you treat the floorman, like you treat the mayor. The fuck is wrong with some civility? You treat them well, you aren't standing in the rain waiting for Kevin Rubknob to finish up and unlock the fucking door" - Premier fired back, enjoying the comfort of unabashed banter like he would share with his brothers during the war. Premier flicked on the dome light in the truck and stretched open the pages of the newspaper. The light from the car illuminated the floating vessel in the dark empty foggy streets of Pasadena California... at 4am in the morning.

"You know, if you maybe had a bit of faith in what I'm about to show ya, you wouldn't have to make me drive half blinded by the halo over your heavenly head while you read that ancient bible."  The slight annoyance in Grooglez voice creeping out due to the earlier dismissal of his idea as 'too Hollywood queer futuristic bull shit'. The only way Grooglez was able to convince Premier to even have a look and hear him out was scheduling it at the ungodly hour Premier insists people should be awake at. 

Up in the distance ahead, both of the men glare intently at 4 orbs of light stationary in a blanket of fog. 

"Now who decides to break down at 4am during a thunderstorm?" Premier asked without either party really expecting any sort of answer as he reached below the bench seat and secured his trusty Walther P38, one of his prized trophies brought back back from across the Atlantic. His voice was calm, but it sounded as though it was more excited and hopeful at the thought of adventure rather than caution.

"It's just the milkman making sure the lovely people of the night are getting their vitamin D, plus we're turning off before that so you can put your hard on away and stop trying to find a way out of taking a look at the building first, and then I'll finally show you how this all comes together." interrupted Grooglez, knowing damn well that no matter how much he wanted to investigate what was going on, he wouldn't let the temptation for a few minutes of adventure circumvent the opportunity they both had waiting them. 

(20 minutes of driving later. In horrible visibility and ungodly rain. Bumpy too. The truck was probably a terrible idea)

The mood and attitude within the truck would not appeared to have changed to most onlookers, but the constant jabs back and forth had ignited a joyous and fun mood that only is commonly shared within brother at arms, but occasionally manifests itself even between a vet and a civilian. 

"You realize that by the time that bullshit you're reading makes it to your hands, a quarter of the facts have already changed, the names are backwards, and there's already some other new bullshit thats more vital to know about anyways. The crap in there is irrelevant most of the time. The people don't care about the shit that's being printed these days.  You're always talking about how we need to expand our message. How we need to fix the pussification of the so called men in this country who hid behind their genital confusion to avoid another war." - Grooglez continued to rant on and on, continuing well after they had entered through the unmanned gates of the lot and sat parked for 2 minutes out front of the buildings main entrance.

"For one, aren't you one of those pussy toting war dodgers who stayed back home in sunny Los Angeles? And two, gender dysphoria is a serious thing and you shouldn't be making light of it" Premier said with a straight face before they both burst into laughter. 

Grooglez, already aware that Premier would point out this obvious fallacy in his argument, smirked knowing Prem took the bait and touched upon the exact point Grooglez was hoping to make.

"Exactly dude, and fucking look at me now. If it wasn't for you and the guys, I'd be still be running scams on the local marks and running small time cons. I wouldn't have the stability and the vision and the work ethic that you guys were able to beat into me. And if it wasn't for you SPEAKING your poetry during those open house sessions, I would have never been saved."  he passionately blurt out, while internally thinking to himself ... `HA HA HA Poetry... fucking queer`

Grooglez waited outside the truck for what felt like an eternity. He semi glanced towards the direction of the truck, looking at the outline of Premier still in the passenger seat, hunched over reaching underneath the seats again. Grooglez didn't even want to imagine how many pieces his boss deemed the minimal required to enter an unoccupied eight-story building. He thought to ask this when Premier would finally exit the vehicle, but he decided better of it. He had exited from the truck unarmed, and if  the number of firearms Premier was harnessing was too low, he didn't want to risk feeling the urge to re-enter the vehicle just to grab another gun. That, plus the fact that he would already forget this thought by the time Prem would step out. 

"I'm gonna head in and open the door. The guy said it could be a bit problematic." - Grooglez directed towards Premier, motioning with his head towards the front door, sat completely off of its hinges next to the opening into the building. Grooglez had just barely taken 8 steps through the door opening when he heard Premiers footsteps already beside him.

"So what exactly is this shit" You want me to play music so that your fiance has something to do when you're out doing her grocery shopping and cleaning? How exactly is that going to help me make any fucking money, let alone slap some common sense into these damn kids running around without a single fucking clue as to how the real world works...... and help unite the men across this great land of ours or some shit like that..." Premier asked, curious as to why his so-called intelligent friend was wasting his time with a radio station fit to broadcasts audio transmissions of the gospel 'Silent Night' in Morse code while Father Pat McCrotch teaches little Jimmy how to hum... apparently in Morse code too.

"Every fucking radio station we tune into is playing the shit your dad would play to drown out the moans from the neighbors wife when she's over. When that's over, you get to listen to some fat fuck read to us Moby Dick as while he takes his wheezy breaths in between bites of his stale sandwich. Why?  Why did you waste your time back in the car READING about some useless shit that happened yesterday while we were driving here? Now imagine if every Tom, Dick and Harry... decide that instead of reading about what might have happened yesterday... They LISTEN to what is happening as we get it? Imagine a 13 year old vagina extract bunking off from school, staying home. He's going to put on his moms makeup and make believe a fucking tea party unless your voice is able to reach out to him." - Googlez blasted without a second of pause between sentences.

Premier looked on unamused at his friend, hoping Grooglez would realize he was stretching more and more with  his sexuality jokes, much like a midget prostitute in Harlem. While he realized Grooglez might be onto something, transitioning the times forward from print publication to radio broadcast. He still didn't understand why he should be excited. "Grooglez. This is great and all. I mean, awesome bro. You really thought this all out. I mean, at first I was really starting to question my decision on taking you in. But I mean, clearly with this.... with this single move... you proved to me that you're just as capable as the majority of the mafioso in this thing of ours today. With this, I'll be able to reach out to all 35 people who decided to listen to their radio while in Los Angeles that day. Thanks. What next? After 15 years, we'll have made enough revenue to possibly put the down payment on another station 200 miles away? Have you even taken a look around? The place smells like France while Germany was anally invading it. The equipment looks like the spank room at the back of the Comms Office where Radio Ops rub one out listening in on a trucker with a lot lizard."

Amused by Premiers little jab, Grooglez abruptly threw the keys of the truck towards Premier as he turned towards the exit of the building.

"Look at you, already giving up on me. You told me you would take a look at two locations. I need you drive cuz I'll have to figure out the map."

Catching the keys mid air with a single snatch of his arm in the air, Premier shook his head and answered "If you're hopeful that you're working on convincing me between either THIS or whatever THAT is that you're taking me.... know that your only options currently are THAT or NOTHING."

Grooglez, feeling the pressure of his idea and vision slowly slipping away thought to himself... but out loud so Premier heard him, "This OR that? But... they're together. It's this AND that."

Hello Premier, did somebody else prepare this speech for you?  

Once you become a leader you learn to surround yourself with people better than you. Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t did you enjoy learning about our radio station?

We are all leaning more towards "didn't", but if you are in need of an overnight DJ gifted with skills beyond skills and an ability to captivate an audience,  I'll boost your station's ratings into the stratosphere free of charge.  I'd also be willing to prepare speeches for you if Grooglez is busy but unfortunately I will need to be compensated for that.

We are always looking for talent destro, and ways to further our broadcast reach. I am 100% positive I can find a use for your mouth, let’s set up an interview