"Gunga Dan, you're on the air."
"Those Hellraised monsters ate my sweet little doggie Fifi, and I want them to rot in Hell forever."
"Talk about redundant. " "WKTU, you're on the air. Go ahead, caller."
"We can't give the Hellraised rights, Dan. We can't hire them. They'll fill all the minimum-wage jobs and leave the poor without any way to make a living."
"I had the Hellraised figured for middle management, myself. " "Gunga Dan, you're on the air."
"You are a blasphemer and an iniquitous hellbound fiend and we're going to get you."
"We're living in the age of enlightenment today. " "Hi. You're on the air. Try to say something sensible."
"Dan?"
"Ye-e-e-e-sss?"
"I just wanted to thank you for what you're trying to do. Even if it doesn't work, I think the fact that you're doing your part to give the Hellraised a second chance is wonderful. I don't want to think of anyone being tortured in Hell forever, and I hope your Great Devil Makeover works."
Dan was silent for an instant. Then he said, "I know exactly what you mean. Thanks for calling."
All morning, the calls kept coming in. The callers expressed hope, swore and threatened, shouted, laughed, told stories of experiences they'd had with the Hellraised, talked about loved ones dead and gone who'd led less-than-exemplary lives.
The minister of a local church called in and said that he and his parishioners, heartened by WKTU's attempt to make North Carolina a place people would want to live again, were following the radio station's example and adopting the two gargoyles that had been hanging around the church grounds. Further, he said, he wanted to challenge other churches to find their own Hellraised souls and do what they could to turn them around.
Dan raised a triumphant fist and Darlene, sitting at her desk near the main door, grinned at him and mouthed the words "Way to go."
A boy from one of NC State's fraternities called in to say that he and his frat brothers were so inspired By the Great Devil Makeover that they were going to go out and find a succubus and attempt to rehabilitate her and that they challenged other fraternities to do the same. Dan winced, and started adding a disclaimer every ten or fifteen minutes reminding listeners that the radio station could not guarantee the safety of the Great Devil Makeover project and advised others to follow caution and common sense if following its example.
His warnings didn't seem to slow anyone down. Sororities began calling in to say they'd found imps and gargoyles and were adopting them. Churches called in to respond to the challenge the first church had raised. A local chapter of the Girl Scouts adopted a swarm of gremlins, and the Raleigh branch of the Daughters of die Confederacy decided to make a project out of a fallen angel.
Every once in a while, someone would call in to tell Dan he was leading Raleigh into perdition. Dan cheerfully told those callers Raleigh was right in the middle of perdition and he was just trying to dig it out.
By the time Sandy came in, she had to fight her way through a picket line of Mothers Against Unchained Devils and elbow her way past a thicket of television cameras from stations in Charlotte, High Point, Fayetteville, and Wilmington.
"Oh, babe, it's Hell out there," she said and grinned.
Dan leaned back in his chair, enjoying the silence while the advertisements ran, and grinned back at her. "They're listening," he said.
"Are they ever." Sandy flopped into her own seat and took a sip of her coffee. "Somebody's draped banners across the street that say, 'Home of the Great Devil Makeover' and 'WKTU Believes' and 'St. Dan for President' and . . . I don't know. Three or four other ones. M. A. U. D. is raising hell—they'll probably rip your clothes off when you go through the picket line."
"Maybe I'll go out the back door."
She raised an eyebrow. "That would be chickenshit of you. Your public awaits. Christ, I had people asking for my autograph as I was coming through the door, just because I work here. You gotta go through the front door, babe. They love you out there."
"Except for M. A. U. D."
Sandy pointed her index finger at him and fired an imaginary pistol. "You can handle the mommies. Go get 'em, Tex."