Sellevision - Augusten Burroughs [18]
“What the hell is this?” he grumbled. “I don’t have my reading glasses. Just tell me how much the damn thing is so I can write a check and we can all get out of here. This is taking far too long. Time is money.”
Mr. Lewis cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. That will be one million, four hundred thousand dollars.”
At hearing the price of the stone, Steve’s jaw unhinged.
Trish left his side and ran to her father, kissing him on the cheek.
Mr. Mission filled in the check, scrawled his signature at the bottom and turned to his daughter. “See, my little princess? One and a half million, just like that.” He snapped his fingers in the air.
Gunther’s head instinctively turned.
“Nothing is too good for you.” He kissed his daughter on the forehead. Then he looked at Steve and glared. “And you,” he warned, “better not go shopping in a Cracker Jack box ever again.”
“H
i everybody, welcome to Sellevision. I’m your host this evening, Leigh Bushmoore, and for the next hour I invite you to kick off your shoes, get into a cozy pair of your favorite pajamas, and join me for Slumber Sunday Sundown,” she said, standing in the bedroom set.
Cut to Slumber Sunday seven-second intro.
Leigh took a quick sip of water from a bottle that was hidden out of sight of the camera and sat on the edge of the bed.
Smiling broadly into the camera, Leigh asked viewers if they shared her frustration at “always forgetting to moisturize your hands, so you end up with dry, cracked skin? Well, guess what? You don’t ever have to think about it again. Take a look at this.” And she presented an item called RemoteControLotion, a universal remote control unit that not only operated most televisions, VCRs, and stereo systems, but dispensed moisturizing hand lotion through tiny pores on each of the buttons. To demonstrate the unit, Leigh aimed the device at the television directly across from the bed, which instantly popped to life, displaying a Sellevision logo. “I’ve just pressed ‘on’ and already, lotion has been released onto my fingers.”
Cut to a close up of Leigh rubbing lotion between her thumb and index finger. “See?” she asked viewers.
Cut to medium shot. “Now, I can have soft, smooth skin by doing nothing more than being the couch potato that I already am.”
Within two minutes, RemoteControLotion sold out and Leigh crossed her pajama-clad legs and moved on to the next product. “How many of you have ever dreamed of owning a hand-crafted cuckoo clock but thought you could never afford one?”
After her Slumber Sunday show, Leigh headed back to her office. She picked up her phone and dialed Max’s number. His machine answered. “Hi Max, it’s Leigh. I’m just calling to wish you good luck in case you check your messages before the interview. I’m sure you’ll do great. Call me when it’s over and let me know how it went.”
Then Leigh caught up on her E-mail.
“B
oys, make sure you wear your red ties,” Peggy Jean called down the hallway toward her sons’ rooms. Then, to her husband who was in the process of knotting a blue tie around his neck, “Sweetheart, please,” she said, touching him on the elbow with her Honey Desert fingernail. “The boys are wearing their red ties. Wear your red tie, too. I like us to look like a family.” Peggy Jean was wearing a simple navy suit with a red scarf tied loosely around the neck.
Her husband sighed loudly. “Fine,” he grumbled and unknotted the tie, tossed it onto the bed, and walked to the closet to retrieve the red tie.
Peggy Jean adored Sundays because dressing up and going to church gave her family the chance to be together and do something wholesome that everyone enjoyed. And that particular Sunday was especially important, given her medical problems. The fact that she had not yet heard back from her doctor worried her. There was something her doctor was not telling her, she just knew it. “Shoot!” she cried. She brought her finger to her mouth and began sucking on it. “I pricked myself with my crucifixion pin. See what happens when I get worried? You’d think I would have