It's baaaaaack

Scene: the Hatchling's bedroom, from 9-11:30 PM.

The Hatchling: WAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Squab: Whatsa matter, bean? Do you have a diaper? huh? Need a snack? (gets Hatchling up, changes her, offers boob)

The Hatchling: SUCK SUCK SUCK suck suck suck suck suck zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz ...

Squab (carefully scoots to edge of rocker, slooooooooowly stands up, tiptoes over to crib, gennnnnnnntly lays Hatchling in crib)

The Hatchling: WAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Squab: Crap. (picks Hatchling up, reswaddles her even tighter, turns her sideways and starts to jiggle) Shhhhhh ... shhhhhh ... shhhhhhh ... shhhhhh ...

The Hatchling: waaaahh.

(Repeat for 10 minutes. Squab loses sensation in her lips and her spit dries up.)

Squab: Shhhhbbbth ... fuck.

The Hatchling: waaaAAAAAAAH!

Squab (to Mr. Squab): Honey?!?! Where's the radio?

Mr. Squab: What radio?

Squab: My boombox, the small one!

Mr. Squab: Hang on, I'll find it. (sounds of digging around downstairs) OK, here it is.

Squab: Take her while I find a static station.

The Hatchling: WAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Mr. Squab: Shhhhh ... shhhhh ... shhhh ... shhhh ...

Squab (punching through every station on the dial): No ... no ... no ... why the fuck isn't there any pure static? How can there be stations close to every frequency?!?!

Mr. Squab: Try AM.

The Hatchling: WAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Squab (tries AM): It's too quiet, it won't turn up loud enough. (tries FM again, gets station with mostly static and decides it will have to do. Cranks it.)

The Hatchling: WAAAaaaaahhhhhzzzzzzzzzzz ...

Mr. Squab (slowly puts Hatchling in crib. She stays quiet. Squab and Mr. Squab turn off the radio and sloooooooowly back away.)

*** Forty-five minutes pass ***

The Hatchling: WAAAAAAAAAAH!

(Repeat, ad infinitum)