The White House guards consult him regularly. So do attorneys, stockboys, drunks, lovers and insomniacs.

Weasel was called Weasel before he became one of Washington's most popular late-night disc jockeys. Five nights a week he sits in a little booth soundproofed with carpet remnants, gesticulating at a microphone while nine-tenths of the city sleeps. Tonight, as usual, he is filling the twlight world of 3 a.m. with his special brand of talk and music.

"That was Edward the Mad Shirtgrinder by Quicksilver," he says, "Gypsy by Van Morrison and Jivin' Sister Fanny by the Rolling Stones. The following is the sound of Donal Duck Orange Juice being drunk at seven minutes until three. Going down the esophagus, or is it gullet? You remember Don Gullet. He used to pitch for Cincinnati." For a long spell Weasel ate one loud mouthful of Freakies Ceral a night, looking for the prize. But tonight he's back to the duck o.j. and at precisely 3 a.m. he says over the stream-lined airwaves, "There's a mystery guest here with us tonight who wants to know what Washington is like at three in the morning. So why don't you call in and tell me what you're doing." The phone lines get jammed immediately.

"I'm doimg a term paper on the history of the Renaissance. It's boring."

"I'm sitting in the office of a gas station trying to stay awake."

"Getting high and making love. Have a little wine here. Squeezing my little honey . . . can you dedicate a song?"

"It's cold in dis alley, mon, and if you could play a little Wayne Newton we could rock around the block."

"A Hecht Company bigwig is coming out from California so they hired all the stockboys to clean up the store."

"I'm thinking of you, Weasel."

"I'm an artist. I'm drawing triangles into boxes . . . I'm into Escher and someday I'll be famous."

"Is there really someone there with you? How come he doesn't say anything?"

"I'm mellowing out, Weas.

What are you doing?"

"I'm a Filmograph cameraman trying to stay awake. I'm preparing slide shows."

"Any reason you picked three a.m. to play? (voices in background) He's drunk!"

"Whey don't you shut up and play some music."

Weas is a guy who spends his time talking about Jujube candy, or Mr. Zip of the post office, or Mr. Delish of vending machine fame. At 3 a.m. these things become very important. Towards 4 a.m. the calls have tapered off. He has fielded calls from people who claim Rod Sterling is alive and well in their apartment, who want to talk to Joe Pine, who claim they are Captain Igor, who read him definitions out of Funk & Wagnalls , who pass out halfway through sentences, crashing the receiver to the floor. In an hour and half the Weas will take his leave, signing off for another day of sleep before he slides back to WHFS FM to start all over again at 1 a.m. Before he sleeps, though, the Weasel will do what he does every morning when he reaches home by bus to Silver Spring. He'll eat waffles, cheese and lots of syrup for breakfast.