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Reality Sucks
© 2000 by W. S. Dean


[Reality TV shows --- cheap to produce, sleazy in appeal, and culturally tacky --- naturally appeal to network and studio executives who pride themselves on being "thrifty, down-home and essentially ignorant." Viewers will be beset by more this Fall season. Maybe even something like the following...]

The Olympics theme rip-off music blared noisily, announcing the opening as a computer-generated fake red neon sign flashed "Sucks!" on the television screen and the tiny word in blue "Reality" faded into view. The voice-over announcer, his voice hoarse with hangover and anger over his small paycheck, shouted:

"Grope your crotches and titillate your fantasies because it's time for REALITY SUCKS, the completely unrehearsed peek into America's nastiest pastimes! There's not much time to introduce our sleazy contestants before they gush body fluids in powerful - completely unrehearsed! - spews at your TV screen, so let's get on down!!"

The screen immediately displayed grubby, bearded cheeks, bloodshot eyes, and a scrunched face.

"Here's Sean! Sean's been isolated for two weeks in a spartanly-furnished motel room on the Des Moines Airport fly-over path with his arms bound tightly to his sides - but don't worry he's being fed daily, courtesy of our proud sponsor, Campbell's delicious Soy & Fava Beans. What's his challenge? Well..."

Sean's pale, naked body is covered only by silvery duct tape that stretched around his chest and held his arms, from upper arm to wrist, against his ribs. He slouched against the wall, eyes darting nervously at the small television set bolted high up on the opposite wall.

"Yes, we've been broadcasting hot adult movies 24/7 into Sean's temporary domicile and...Sean is tempted by..."

A small gleaming chrome pipe end juts from the wall at crotch-level beside the motel room door. Sean's eyes flick toward it and he shuts them tightly, gritting his teeth.

"Oh, boy! Did you see that? I think he's weakening, folks, what do you think? But that's not just any pipe. It's connected to the powerful, erotically-charged Baskin SuckMaster 2000 vacuum cleaner intake! Will Sean get so horny, he'll stick his penis in? Will he? Let's recap just who Sean is to heighten the tension!"

An interview pre-taped before Sean was placed in the motel room flickers on to the screen. Sean grins confidently into the camera. His thick bib overalls are topped by a wide-brimmed straw hat.

"My name is Sean Vorbachter and I've been Amish all my life. We don't believe in machines much as part of our strict religious creed and sex isn't talked about much because it's nasty, filthy, and degrading except for making baby Amishes. I don't think I'll have any trouble in resisting temptation and the $10, 000 prize money will help me buy my own farmland so that my virgin fiancée, Enid, and I can live a clean, unsullied life as the Good Lord intended."

The interview ended and the program camera again showed Sean sweating heavily in the motel room.

"While we've blurred the image of his crotch, we can assure you that Sean's had that hardon pretty constantly for the past week and you can imagine he's had - ha ha ha! - blue balls for years now. I don't know how much longer he can hold out. Boy, that SuckMaster 2000 looks pretty inviting, doesn't it? And how's his pretty fiancée Enid holding up?"

Enid's hysterically crying face was flashed briefly.

"Oh, not too well! I guess, like us, she thinks Sean's religious principles may crumble when faced with the overpowering urge to stick it in. What do you say we switch on the loudspeaker of Sean's room and encourage him? Let's all shout! Stick it in! Stick it in! Stick it in!!"

A close-up revealed Sean's silently screaming mouth. Suddenly he bolted for the pipe end.

"Uh oh, here we go! Let's go to the tiny camera in the vacuum pipe."

The view was of a narrow polished metal tunnel, brightly lit. The head of Sean's penis appeared and the pipe vibrated wildly.

"Get ready! The Baskin SuckMaster 2000 vacuum has amazing power generated by twin 20 horsepower engines and...Oh! There he goes!"

Spurting gushes of milky white semen splashed at the camera lens.

"Wow! He was carrying a big load!"

Now the view shifted to Sean's lopsided smile. He shrugged his shoulders and looked at the camera. "I guess...well...Reality sucks," he mumbled.

"Yes indeed!," the announcer bleated. "Reality Sucks! That's the game and that's the name of your favorite show, folks!"

Hyman Dobro rose from his chair and switched off the television and VCR. He snapped a quick, knowing smile at his co-producer Sabby Weinstein, then turned to the studio executive sitting behind the desk.

"Well, whatcha think? Is this a pitch or what? Of course, that's just a pilot segment."

The studio executive shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. Are you going to have some shots of babes with big tits? Real ones, I mean, not those plastic things."

Hyman glanced at Sabby. She nodded. "We can do that," he said, bobbing his head excitedly.

"And...well," the executive drawled. "I'd like to put my wife and daughter...nothing major, you know...and, oh, have that sponsor send me a SuckMaster. I have to get some perk out of this deal."

Hyman swallowed hard. "Sure, we can do that."

"Hey, I just had a about a segment know, people love Hollywood stories. How about a segment where a big name writer or producer is tempted to kiss a studio executive's ass? I mean, physically kiss it...or do you think that would be too short for a segment?"

Hyman smiled crookedly. He wasn't sure whether he should laugh. He looked over at Sabby.

"Maybe," she began..."maybe as interstitials before and after commercial breaks?"

copyright 2000 W.S Dean. All rights reserved.

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