A pirate radio station somewhere in the bowels of Babylon 5. Lyta Alexander is sitting at a rickety desk, wearing oversized earphones and talking into a microphone shaped like an ice cream cone. She is dressed in a PsyCop uniform, chomps a tiny ‘Man with no Name' cigar and wears a look of holy anger in her glaring obsidian eyeballs. Lyta takes a deep drag on her cigar and blows smoke out of her gills. On her desk is a well thumped copy of the Book of G'Quan and a beat up tape recorder. The only other things in the room are a stack of badly printed Centauri bumper stickers saying In Your Hearts You Know She's Right and a trash can overflowing with empty flarn containers.

Lyta punches the off button on tape recorder as it finishes playing the ‘Sheridan's Spicy Spooettes' jingle and cues herself.

Lyta: Hello! Welcome to Ask Dr. Vorla! What's your trouble, caller?

Londo: (hesitantly) Er, um...

Lyta: Speak up, caller.

Londo: Yes, I'm getting to that. My name is, um, Lon... no, it's Lon'dar, and I'm a Narn.

Lyta: Is that your problem?

Londo: No, of course not!

Lyta: Because a lot of people have trouble with who they are, and I just think it's sick.

Londo: I don't have that problem. I love myself, especially when I'm drunk.

Lyta: And people who floss in public. Those people should be hanged!

Londo: Maybe I should call back later.

Lyta: Lon'dar. That's an unusual name for a Narn. Are you any relation to the Rognab 3 Lon'dars?

Londo: I should hope not.

Lyta: They're Drazi anyway. Look, we're wasting time here. Tell me your problem or hang up.

Londo: You're so hasty. Just like my eighth wife Blearah... It was always hurry up, Londo! Why is it taking so long, Londo? Why are you gasping like that, Londo? By the Great Maker...I mean of course, by G'Quan...a Centauri needs time for that kind of thing.

Lyta: I thought you said you were a Narn.

Londo: Of course! But if I were a Centauri, it would take a while.

Lyta: I'm sure it would.

Londo: Sometimes it happened too quickly, and then brrrr!

Lyta: PROBLEM! NOW!

Londo: Yes, all right you hideous woman. It's rather...delicate.

Lyta: So that's why you're blabbing it to the whole station? Thank God it's not sensitive, thank God it's not fragile.

Londo: Shut up you righteous cow!

Lyta: Thank God it's not... did you just tell me to shut up?

Londo: Yes. No. I want to tell you about my problem now.

Lyta: NOBODY tells Dr. Vorla to shut up! Whose damn radio show is this, anyway?

Londo: I'm sorry, my little dove.

Lyta: That's not good enough! I'm cutting you off now. Goodbye!

Londo: No, please...

Lyta: Yes, I'm definitely hanging up.

Londo: I apologize. Deeply. From the depths of my crippled soul. Please, just let me tell you about my problem, and then I will go away and never trouble you again.

Lyta: You're fragging right you will.

Londo: I want to get my attributes pierced.

Lyta: What did you say?

Londo: My attributes. I want them pierced.

Lyta: That's disgusting!

Londo: Oh, no- it's a very simple operation. And then, and then I wish to insert a ring, or perhaps a stud, in each and every one...

Lyta: Perverted. Degenerate.

Londo: Of malachite, or perhaps tourmaline...

Lyta: I'm putting my hands over my ears now, and asking the First Ones to pray for you.

Londo: ...or Tanzanite. And stamped with the Imperial seal! That way I could perform official business in bed.

Lyta: Why would you do that? Why would you violate and mutilate the body that G'Quan gave you, just to fulfill some sick fantasy of lust...

Londo: Who said anything about lust? I just thought they'd look nice.

Lyta: So why did you call?

Londo: Ah, yes. I have an inlaid ivory phallus, and I would like fifty ducats for it.

Lyta: WHAT?

Londo: Yes, it's about twenty five centimeters long, handcrafted on Ragesh 3. I don't think my price is extravagant.

Lyta: What in Valen's name are you talking about?

Londo: Isn't this "The Classified Zone?"

Lyta: No! (She hangs up on Londo) How ‘bout that ladies? Men are just the Devil's puppets, aren't they? NEXT caller....

Sebastian: Hello, this is, ah...Jack.

Lyta: Another damned man. Aren't there any women out there in radioland? Okay, Jack; what's your problem?

Sebastian: Oh, I'd much rather talk about you. What do you want? What does Vorla need?

Lyta: Right now, Vorla needs a foot massage and a banana daiquiri.

Sebastian: I can do that!

Lyta: I'm listening.

Sebastian: Do you have little gills? I love little gills.

Lyta: This is getting way too personal.

Sebastian: Perhaps we could meet somewhere? I know this perfect little spot in Brown Seven...

Lyta: Okay hang on the phone, Jack, and my producer will take your number. NEXT caller.

Delenn: Hello Dr. Vorla.

Lyta: Hi, what's your name?

Delenn: Susan.

Lyta: You sound like a Minbari to me.

Delenn: Yes. I'm a Minbari named Susan.

Lyta: Isn't that unusual?

Delenn: No. Id's normal. Berfectly normal.

Lyta: Oh-kay. Do you have a question?

Delenn: This is fery deefiguld. Are you a Vorlon?

Lyta: Sure. I'm a Vorlon.

Delenn: Begaus you don't zound like a Vorlon.

Lyta: How does a Vorlon sound? They never say anything.

Delenn: (petulantly) I wand to talk to a Vorlon.

Lyta: Okay, okay; try this:(she does a Kosh voice) Yyeesssss.

Delenn: That was better.

Lyta: Who are you?

Delenn: They say that a lot.

Lyta: If you go to Za'ha'dum, you will meet an effeminate old alien.

Delenn: Yes, that hapbened. Ogay, I'll dell you my broblem. I am married to a fery bowerful man...

Lyta: Warrior caste?

Delenn: Er...yes.

Lyta: I love soldiers. They're so forceful.

Delenn: Me too. Now...

Lyta: I remember the time that General Franklin and I made love on the black steaming sands of Nediser 7. I said, "Lock and load, you Desert Fox!" and he took my milk white shoulders in his strong calloused hands and said...

Delenn: Could I ged on with my broblem?

Lyta: No, that wasn't it. He said something else. (Shrugs) Oh well. It was a fun time.

Delenn: I'm sure it was.

Lyta: I have some pictures. Would you like to see them?

Delenn: Well...

Lyta: Hot Stuff!

Delenn: ...sure.

Lyta: Great. I'll post them on an FTP page and send you the link by email. So, Susan; what's your problem?

Delenn: I just wanded the number of that Narn who had the phallus.

Lyta: Hold for the producer. NEXT caller.

Zack: Hi Dr. Vorla. Or should I say Lyta?

Lyta: Who is this?

Zack: It's Zack Allen. You know, the poor sad-faced chump who's been chasing you for three seasons? The guy who used to do the infomercials for spray-on flarn? And you're Lyta Alexander, disgraced P 5 influence jockey turned hot hate radio queen.

Lyta: That's ridiculous. I'm Dr. Vorla Scheisslinger, and I don't hate anybody. I LOVE EVERYBODY! Even the liberal-commie Earthgov traitors who pander to the outer worlds and the sick, degenerate keeper-ridden pathogens who infest them. I especially love those guys.

Zack: Lyta, what's happened to you? You used to be so sweet, naive, impressionable, idealistic, simple, moronic and that kind of stuff. You were like the girl next door, and I was like the boy who...lived in my house. Or something. Now look at us. I grew up to join a right wing terror squad, and you're like some transgenic mutant of Rush Limbaugh and Mary Tyler Moore.

Lyta: Hey, anger sells on the radio, pal. Have you got a question?

Zack: I guess not. I guess the Lyta I used to know is dead. Dead and buried. Dead, buried, and stinking. Dead, buried, stinking and rotten and...

Lyta: Oh, spare me! If President High and Mighty Sheridan had given me a job like I asked him to, or if Michael Fraggin Garibaldi had kept me on instead of throwing me to the zargs, I wouldn't have had to take this gig. A girl's gotta eat, ya know.

Zack: I guess so.

Lyta: Damn straight! Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to pay the rent. (She hangs up on Zack and thumbs the tape recorder again.)

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Dr. Franklin: I use ‘em!

Lyta: That's right, he does. NEXT caller.

Garibaldi: Hey, Vorla, it's Mike Garibaldi!

Lyta: Oh frag. What do you want?

Garibaldi: Hey, I was just down here in the Zocalo, wheeling and dealing, and I heard you on the radio and thought I'd give you a call.

Lyta: Yeah, right.

Garibaldi: Really. Hey, remember those holophotos I took of you a while back? When you thought you were alone? Silk sheets and bravari?

Lyta: I don't know what you're talking about.

Garibaldi: Sure you do. You kept moaning "Bester! Bester!" and I filmed it all in soft focus. Thought the digital camera was going to melt in my hand.

Lyta: Scumbag!

Garibaldi: You betcha! There are advantages to being a retired security chief, and one of them is that I get to cash in on all the dirt I dug back when I still wore a badge. Anyway, since you didn't want the pix at the price we discussed, I turned ‘em over to Jacob Mayhew at Virtual Excitement. I hear you're his headliner now. Fully interactive, fully responsive, and fully wow!

Lyta: Pimp!You are so sued.

Garibaldi: I'm shakin'. (Garibaldi hangs up)

Lyta: Men! They're just the Devil's erector sets. (Lyta take another hit off her cigar then breathes smoke out of her ears.)

Lyta: I don't have to apologize for something I did years ago, that was completely innocent and private even if I did make the First Ones cry, and is against God and everything, but at least I didn't have an abortion or be a lesbian like Ivanova except when I fantasize. About her. And that's just what Babylon 5 is all about and to hold me to a higher standard than a level playing field is just unfair! I mean here I am, trying to impart goodliness and Godliness and wisdom, and just because I've had my fun and don't want anyone else to, shouldn't be a reason for blatant personal attacks and websites with Dr. Vorla's Twelve Dirty Secrets and black tape over my nipples! I mean this really begs the question of whether or not Valen would even want to come back to such a corrupt universe as this, even though he's coming in a couple of days, and when he does WATCH OUT. That's all I have to say on that subject except that my listeners know I'm a good person not a bitch like that Talia and that they will forgive my transgressions and that I don't need to apologize except for that one and only time with G'Kar. And anyway his parts didn't fit so it wasn't that much fun he just kind of...and anyway why am I saying this and I'm sorry. (Sobs) Especially about the abortion. And Byron. And Season 5. NEXT caller.

Evil Kosh: Hhelllooo...

Lyta: Hey, Koshy- you're gettin' to be a real regular on the show! I hope you've got time for a cozy ol' chat, cause I plan to use my bent charisma and flawed but powerful personality to bash the President and give out irritating and gratuitous advice until the Cuthon come home. God, I love this job!

Evil Kosh:Yyessss.