The rusty key unlocked the studio door like it always had. As I moved in I saw the cobwebs clouded across the turntables and a few desk lights still beeped in anticipation. The old milk crates of vinyls were as I'd left them. Full of memories. I felt that familiar buzz of being seconds from on-air when people waited to reunite in song and remember times long gone by and how it felt so good. And I've missed that feeling. I pull on the headphones gingerly - it's been a while - and flick the switch on the uranium powered turntables and ask is anybody out there?
larry's back
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