Sellevision - Augusten Burroughs [83]
Inside the control room, her producer turned to the engineer and said, “What the hell is going on?”
“So, Bebe, what do you say?” Eliot asked.
Bebe waved her hands in front of the camera, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, oh Eliot, I can’t believe you’re doing this, I can’t believe . . .”
“Is that a yes?” Eliot said, excitedly, his face inches from his television screen.
Bebe was able to pull herself together enough to say, “You crazy insane lunatic, yes, yes, I will marry you!” Then she sniffled, wiped the tears from her eyes, and explained to her viewers, “I’m sorry everybody, Michael is Eliot’s first name, that’s my Eliot on the phone. I can’t believe this.. . . Eliot, why did you do this to me on live television? . . . I’m going to kill you . . . I love you,” she said, her words all running together.
Immediately, Bebe was surrounded by cameramen with headphones slung around their necks, assistants dressed in jeans, all the behind-the-scenes people that put Sellevision on the air twenty-four hours a day, 364 days a year. They were smothering Bebe, hugging her, throwing their headphone sets into the air. Somebody bumped against the large prop column and sent it crashing down against the illuminated city skyline at the rear of the set, blowing out some lights.
And above all the chaos on the screen, above the cheering, the hugging, the kissing and the crying, Eliot could be heard over the airwaves loud and clear as he shouted, “I love you, Bebe Friedman, I love you so much. I’m the stain you’ll never get rid of!”
one year later
“Hi, I’m Kyle Thunderwood. And you’re watching the Shop From Home television network,” the host said as he sauntered across the set in black leather jeans and a white buttondown shirt, taking his seat in the center of the set. “I hope all you viewers out there tonight are looking for some very exciting merchandise, because I’ve got a great show in store for you.” Kyle gave a sexy, teasing smile, unbuttoning his shirt down to his waist. “Man, oh man, it sure is hot under these studio lights. I hope you don’t mind if I get a little bit more comfortable.” Kyle let the shirt fall from his shoulders and rubbed a hand across his smooth chest, which glistened from perspiration. He traced a line from the center of his chest slowly down his stomach, stopping just before the button on his black leather jeans. Then he took the finger and stuck it in his mouth, moaning softly.
The video clip ended and the lights of the Reno Grand Hilton were once again illuminated as the audience applauded.
The scantily clad hostess of the awards ceremony then opened a sealed envelope and announced, “And the winner is: Kyle Thunderwood in Home Shopping Stud!”
The audience broke into thunderous applause, cheers, and whistles.
At one of the tables, Ed smiled broadly, clapped, and leaned over to whisper in Max’s ear. Trixie Thunderpussy kissed Max’s cheek. When Max rose from his table, Rocky slapped his butt and grinned, giving him the thumbs-up.
Max made his way around all the other tables and up the steps of the stage to accept his Golden Phallus award for Best Newcomer in a Gay Feature.
Standing at the podium and holding the nine-inch solid brass penis, Max smiled into the audience, squinting against the spotlights. “Hi, um, thanks a lot for the, ah, this award. I really can honestly say I never expected to win anything like this. So, cool. I guess I’d like to thank the people at Eagle, for giving me a chance; especially Ed. And thanks also to Trixie and Rocky for being really good friends. So thanks, everyone.”
More cheers and applause from the audience, and Max shrugged, ran his fingers through his hair, and exited the stage. Behind him, a gigantic projection video screen silently played the scene from Home Shopping Stud in which Max made love to a telephone.
Although Max’s mother knew nothing of her son’s new career—and she most certainly had not seen the awards ceremony, which was televised