18. Trinity’s New Testament #3
“Good afternoon, Greater Napanee and the Land O’ Lakes region,” Rebekkah said, voice steady and bright, rising to fill the little Ark and then, as if by a miracle, spilling out over the airwaves.
“And to anyone picking this up by accident in your fishing boat, at your kitchen table, in your tractor, or in your bedroom when you’re supposed to be doing your homework–hello, hello, hello!
You are listening to the inaugural broadcast of ninety-six point five… the ARK.”
Japheth hit the jingle button and an enthusiastic theme song burst forth, featuring Ronald on guitar, Japheth on tambourine, Rebekkah on spoons, and all of them singing,
“On the waves featuring no static,
we are slightly problematic.
We’re out here fishing for the Lord,
tune your hearts and climb onboard!”
LISTEN to Tune Your Hearts, Climb On Board
“This is the Trinity Radio Hour plus friends, for the first time on FM radio,” Ronald chimed in. “Coming to you live from a structurally sound, safety-inspected, definitely built to weather storms, high seas studio.”
Suwarna coughed meaningfully.
“We’re floating here with all laws respectfully acknowledged and doing our best due diligence to follow them, though we kindly seek your forgiveness if we’ve missed anything as we’re still covered in a lot of sawdust from our recent renovations and resurrection from AM to FM station,” Japheth followed up.
“I’m Ronald, your friendly neighbourhood poly, pansexual, ex-agnostic, hoop-driver, dunk-slammer, and part time carpenter of Arks and nativity sets,” Ronald grinned.
“I’m Rebekkah,” she said, “you’re prophet-in-progress, hair-don’t cautionary tale, and local songstress dragging Jesus into the Top 40 whether He likes it or not.”
“And rounding us out, because ask my boyfriend, he’ll tell you there’s nothing straight about me, I’m Japheth,” he said.
“I’m your resident recovering fry cook, future saint of sustainable transportation, and enthusiastic believer that love is love is love and that God is all around us playing hide-and-go-seek in everyday objects so keep those peepers peeled! ”
“In one corner,” Rebekkah added, “we have the best dressed engineer this side of the Sea of Galilee, Carrington!”
“Hi darlings,” Carrington purred into their mic. “Let it be known I am operating the soundboard in a full wind suit and my face is full beat. If you listen really closely, you can probably hear it.”
“And off-mic but always in charge,” Japheth said, “we have our CFO-slash-CEO-slash moral compass and carrying an actual compass, Suwarna!”
“Please do not say moral compass and allude to illegal frequency in the same intro segment,” Suwarna scolded and shyly spoke into a mic, “Hello. I will be handling your complaints and hoarding your compliments. You’re welcome in advance, this show is going to knock your knickers off.”
“And outside,” Ronald said, glancing out the porthole, “leaning against the hull, is our presenting sponsor, unofficial guardian angel, and very much off the market man who can elicit an appreciative moan just by sauntering into a room… Mr. Rino Ferrari.”
Rino, hearing his name over the megaphone speaker they’d rigged on the mast of the boat for the benefit of the crowd, gave a little bow and kissed his fingers before raising them to the sky.
“For legal reasons, and to once and for all clear the air and sweep away any misinformation, disinformation, or contradictory commentary,” Suwarna elbowed her way back in front of the mic, “we would like to note that Mr. Ferrari and his family are not mobsters, arsonists, or villains of any kind, though his cologne is criminally addictive.”
“Today,” Rebekkah said, “we’re going to sing some songs, spill some tea, likely cry a little, and hopefully present a compelling argument that faith can rise to the surface and keep you lifted up even when everything you used to believe starts to sink.”
Halfway through the hour, as Japheth adjusted a mic and tried not to trip over a coil of cable, Carrington’s cell phone rang and everyone froze for a moment and Suwarna leaned over to ask in a hushed voice, “I didn’t think we were going to share the request line until we knew for certain we’d get through today’s broadcast without, you know, sinking. ”
“Maybe it’s God, I bet he gets lonely sometimes. Nobody callin’ on the phone,” Rebekkah murmured, “Except for the pope maybe in Rome.”
“Or CSIS!” Ronald guessed.
“Or, you know, thinking optimistically,” Carrington said, reaching for the phone and drawing it to their ear, “an advertiser. Hello, you’ve reached ninety-six point five The ARK. How may we be of service?”
A bright, chipper voice poured through the earpiece.
Carrington listened, penciled eyebrows climbing incrementally toward their hairline.
“Yes. Uh-huh. Mailing movies? To people’s homes.
On DVDs? And they… mail them back? Fascinating.
So that would mean if I was invested in Blockbuster, I might want to…
uh-huh. Yes, call my broker. Oh! Yes, Trinity can absolutely read that on air.
Yes, if you’d like it on today’s show, it’s double our usual rate which is… ? Three-thousand dollars.”
“Three-thousand dollars!” Suwarna gasped. “They’ll never… Carrington, what are you doing!?”
Carrington covered the receiver with their hand, “They’re some kind of subscription-based movie club. Like BMG for DVD. They want a thirty-second ad during our next break.”
“Another cold read?” Rebekkah moaned. “I barely survived the last one and Japheth got his heart broken.”
“But he also got his heart-on pretty quickly after,” Ronald winked. “With Rino.”
“Yeah, I followed you Mr. Subtlety,” Rebekkah shook her head but smiled across the table.
“They’re mailing movies?” Japheth whispered, enthralled. “Through Canada Post? That’s adorable and sounds kinda cool. I love getting stuff in the mail.”
“It’ll never last,” Carrington whispered.
“It’s too convenient. People will always prefer going to a video store, endlessly walking the aisles, unable to decide what to watch, judging each other for wearing pajamas and snow boots in public, then buying way too many bags of Starburst and Skittles and Skor bars. ”
“Ask about freebies, ask if they’ll give us a free membership!” Ronald mouthed.
Carrington swatted him away, then turned their professional tone back up to blast, “We’d be delighted.
Yes, double the usual rate. Email the copy and we’ll…
yes, yes, of course we still have a fax.
We’re in Canada. We need to stay in touch with the Canada Revenue Agency somehow.
I’ll give you the number and I’ll be on the look-out for the ad copy.
Yes, it sounds like a very promising new business.
How do I spell the company name? N-E-T-F-L, oh right, yes, when I write it down it’s easy.
You bet, we small businesses do need to support each other.
Good luck with the new venture and congratulations on your launch! ”
They hung up and stared at the phone for a beat, then started laughing, “We have our first advertiser, they’re paying double the made-up rate I just plucked from the air, and I have a feeling about this relationship. I think it’s going to get all kinds of deliciously complicated.”
The fax machine, a donated relic from Diane’s office at Saddles ‘n’ Spurs, sat on a little table near the back of the Ark, plugged into a phone jack they’d rigged through a series of adaptors that would give any IT professional nightmares.
As if on cue, it whirred to life, sputtering out paper in jagged little jerks.
“Look at that,” Carrington said. “May the angels in charge of capitalism continue to wave their wands over us.”
Japheth tore off the first page and read aloud, “Bringing Hollywood to your mailbox. And bringing you to Hollywood. What?”
He handed the sheet to Rebekkah. She read aloud, slowly, so the words could land for herself and for the group, “Casting call - local background talent needed. From the creator of Bigfoot ‘n’ Me: A Love Story, visionary auteur director Trenton Sarantino, comes a new feature film shooting on location in the Land O’ Lakes region. ”
Ronald tore the sheet from Rebekkah and continued reading, “Be in the movies. Sarantino wants to cast you in Jesus, Who’s Your Daddy?”
There was a moment when no one spoke. Even the electric generator seemed to hunker down into a hush.
“Shut. Up.” Carrington whispered.
“Holy…” Japheth started, then caught himself, “...Spirit.”
“They’re looking for local colour,” Rebekkah read on, eyes racing down the page.
“Musicians, jugglers, people comfortable line dancing, mimes, or anyone who can speak in tongues. All ages. All backgrounds. For background work. Especially interested in unique faces and traditional fashion of the region.”
“That’s us,” Ronald said. “We’re unique as hell! Sorry. Heaven! Whatever. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!”
“Open call next Saturday,” Rebekkah said, breathless. “At the Greater Napanee and Land O’ Lakes Region Multipurpose Multiplex Centre of Sports and Community Activities. 9AM to 4PM. Bring a headshot if you have one. If not, bring your face ready to be photographed. Oh my God!”
Outside, the river lapped gently at the Ark’s side, as if nodding along in encouragement and whispering words of wisdom as if this too had been ordained.
Carrington clapped once to break the spell, “We need to focus and finish the inaugural broadcast of the Trinity Radio Hour. Then we need to plan your outfits, decide on your ballads and up-tempo numbers, and practice walking into a room with that wow factor until you nail it. We’ve got this and we’re going to find a way to make you not just background performers, but the stars of Jesus, Who’s Your Daddy? .”
“A movie about Jesus? Do you think they’ll get it right?” Japheth worried, tiny creases forking his forehead.