Touched by an Angel

What is it I'm listening to?

The group is called Amphibians, the Moist Screwdriver.

And it's a love song.

People listen to this voluntarily?

Monica, one generation never understands the music

of the following generation.

Claire, it's 4:00.

Oh, no.

It's Sandy Latham time.

She's the greatest.

Hello,

boring midwesterners!

Why don't you farmers just stop watching that corn grow

for a minute, give us a call?

Yo! Somebody pay that phone bill!

You're on the air.

Hello.

You're on the air.

Hello, am-am I on the air?

Not anymore.

Well...

Folks, if you're not smart enough to talk on the radio,

it's no wonder you're losing those farms.

You all sound

like those guys that call up my daughter.

I should probably just buy that spot

in the trailer park right now, get it o...

Hi, Claire.

You got a real funny mum.

Yeah, she's hilarious.

Nice jacket.

Yeah, I stole it.

No.

Really?

Yeah.

If you want one, I can get you one.

I don't know.

Maybe.

All right.

If you change your mind, it's yours.

That's Sandy's daughter,

also known as Claire,

also known as your next assignment.

What am I supposed to do?

Help her and her mother understand each other's music.

But you just said that never happens.

Well, you never say never in a business like this.

Sometimes the things

that you think will never happen do.

And they're going to need each other then.

Ear Wax?

No, thank you.

You're on the air.

Hi, Sandy, uh, this is Mel.

Gibson?

Uh, no.

Call back when you're Mel Gibson.

Uh, Sandy...

Let's see what else we've got here.

Whoa, speaking of wasting my time,

my very own personal assistant,

Arlene, left a message on my machine this morning

saying she wasn't going to come in today.

So why don't we just find out

what this is all about, shall we?

Hello?

Arlene, where are you?

Oh, Hi, Sandy.

I'm sorry about today.

I am so bloated, I can't even button my pants...

Arlene, we're on the air.

We are?

Arlene, I don't pay you to get bloated.

I pay you to work for me.

But... Sandy, I'm sick.

You're fired. What?

Let's go to a commercial.

Are you trying to have a baby?

She fired her for being bloated?

Did she really do that?

You know, she's getting weirder every day.

I, uh... I guess that's my cue.

Fly, Miss Wings, fly.

Did you know that you,

yes, you, can be part of the Sandy Latham show?

That's right.

One masochistic listener will become my cohost,

translate victim, for an entire week of laughs,

mostly at your expense.

So just send that last-minute postcard

to the "I Am Nothing, Sandy is God" sweepstakes,

right here, this station.

Now, the lucky loser will be selected at random tomorrow.

Okay, just one more commercial,

and then I'm going to ruin the next listener's life.

Don't go away.

It's Omega's economic forecast...

Where is everybody?

Sandy, there's someone here to see you.

Who?

Hello, Sandy.

I'm here to interview for the job.

What job?

The job as your new assistant.

Well, I just fired her two seconds ago.

Ah, then I'm not too late.

Well, just come on in.

Hi. I'm Sandy.

Hello. Monica.

Have you done radio before?

No.

There's nothing to it.

You just sit down in that chair,

and you talk on that microphone

and follow my lead.

Okay, stand by.

We're back.

Change in plan.

During the commercial,

an obviously desperate young woman came all the way

down here to the studio to interview

for the recently vacated post

of personal assistant to Sandy Latham.

What's your name, dear?

Monica.

You're not from around here, are you?

No.

No, I'm not.

Well, good.

That's one thing in your favour already.

Do you know how to operate a backhoe?

Haven't the foggiest.

Good.

Here comes the big one.

Do you bloat?

Not at all.

Okay.

What I need is, oh, someone

to arrange my personal appearances,

file my fan mail, organize the book I'm writing,

maybe a little light dusting,

just your general all around slave.

Are you up for that?

I think I can handle that.

Have you done any animal training?

Do you have a dog at home?

Worse.

A teenage daughter.

Oh.

I think that'll be just fine.

Well, fasten your seat belt, because you start tomorrow.

And we'll be right back.

You're listening to WGOS, 107 FM.

Actually,

Claire is a terrific kid.

You are going to love her.

Eric was looking at you.

Do you have something to eat?

Yeah.

The prom is getting closer.

There's still time.

Well, he'd better ask you before all the good tuxes get rented,

and he's stuck with something green.

I told Jamie, get a black tux, or I am not going.

Yeah, right.

Do you think he'll ask me?

I think he wants to.

I mean, it's either you or Emily Short.

What if you just ask him?

Are you insane?

I'm not desperate.

Sure you are.

You've dreamed about going to the prom

since your first Barbie doll.

Face it, girl.

It's a defining moment of your life to date.

Your mother was so funny yesterday, Claire.

Go away, Crystal.

You know,

I think if I had a mother like that,

I'd kill myself.

Thanks.

It's all unresolved sexual tension, really.

You see, divorced women need a place to put their anger.

My mother picks fights with the mailman.

Same thing.

Only it's not so...

humiliating.

Shut up, Crystal.

Well, it is humiliating.

She makes a fool of herself and you.

Take it back. No.

Take it back.

Miss Latham.

No.

Let go of her head, please.

Great. You didn't even hear what she said.

Let her go.