"Great show, Frasier! You know, I really think you helped a lot of people today!"

Smiling at the compliment, Frasier took off his headphones. "Well thank you, Kenny. That's always nice to hear. I can only hope-."

"Yeah, yeah, you hope you can help more people next time! I've heard this what, like fifteen times already?"

Frasier rolled his eyes. "Hello, Bulldog."

Bulldog pushed his cart and gong into the studio, narrowly missing his predecessor's knee.

"Hurry up; I have a show to do so get out!"

Roz opened the door of the booth and grabbed Frasier's arm. "Come on Frasier, let's get out of here. I'm sure there are more exciting things to do besides listening to some boring sports radio show. Like watching paint dry!"

Bulldog laughed; an annoying sound that pierced Roz's ears.

"Speaking of paint, I met this woman last night." Bulldog said. "After a few drinks we went over to my place and-."

"STOP!" Frasier yelled; his hand in the air. "Bulldog, I mean no disrespect, but I have no desire to know what kind of revolting acts you've discovered are possible with a can of paint and an unsuspecting woman!"

"What are you talking about? I was just going to say that when we got to my place, she took one look at my bedroom and-."

"STOP!" Frasier yelled again.

"...said she would help me finish painting it." Bulldog finished. "What did you think I was going to say?"

"Never mind." Frasier replied with a shudder.

"Bulldog, you're on in five!" His producer Pete called from the booth.

"Damn!" Bulldog yelled, rushing back into the studio.

"On in five... four... three... two..."

"This is Bulldog Briscoe and you're in the doghouse! Hey, how about those Sonics last night? Were they on fire or what? I see big things in their future, like a NATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP, BABY!"

Frasier cringed at the sight of Bulldog through the window, holding his hands in the air and yelling as though he'd won a coveted prize. Sonics indeed! In disgust he pulled on his coat and walked away.

Meanwhile, Bulldog barked loudly, causing Roz to cower wondering why she was still watching him. The guy was a loser in every sense of the word.

"All right, who's our first caller?"

"We have Stan from Stanwood on line one." Pete said.

"Wa-waiiiittt a minute. Your name is Stan?" Bulldog asked.

"Last time I checked." Stan said.

"And you're calling from Stanwood?"

"Yeah."

"Stanwood, Washington?"

"What in the hell is this, an interrogation? I gave all this information to Pete, and I just wanted to-."

Bulldog laughed hysterically, stopping only when he saw Pete's glare.

"That's the most hilarious thing I've ever heard!"

"What's so funny about it?"

"You really have to ask?"

"Bulldog!" Pete interrupted. "Your show is only two hours long! You're really gonna spend it arguing with a caller about his name?"

"Oh, right. So what's on your mind, Stan?"

There was a click and the buzz of the dial tone.

"Fine Stan, don't talk to me! You're a loser!" Bulldog yelled. "You probably call yourself Stan to milk revenue from the city of Stanwood!"

"We have Mark on line three with a comment about the Sonics."

Bulldog sighed with relief. "All right! Finally someone intelligent to talk to! Mark you're in the doghouse with Bulldog Briscoe!"

"Yeah, Bulldog I wondered what you thought about the Sonics being sold to Oklahoma City."

The gong Bulldog was holding fell from his hand, the intense sound resonating throughout the studio.

"I-I'm sorry what was that?"

"I said-."

"Because it sounded like you said that the Sonics are leaving Seattle."

"Well, that's exactly what I said."

"That's a good one!" Bulldog laughed.

"It's no joke."

"Right. Shows how smart you are, trying to pull one over on me. Bulldog Briscoe knows a joke when he hears one. I'm the king of jokes around here. I mean, big deal that the Sonics don't have a chance in hell to make the playoffs, but I'm sure that next year-."

He looked up to see Pete waving a newspaper at him through the booth window.

"What in the hell are you doing? Can't you see I'm trying to do a show here and-."

Pete held up the newspaper and suddenly the reality became all too clear.

For written in bold letters was the headline:

END OF AN ERA... BELOVED SEATTLE SUPERSONICS SOLD TO OKLAHOMA CITY BUSINESSMAN.