20 August, 2018

Two pairs of eyes vacantly stare at the tube in front of them. Jane and Joe both stop breathing.

Five minutes later, they're dead.

No. That doesn't seem right? Clears throat and revises.

They're being transported into another realm: the realm of illusions. An eerie stillness surrounds the living room while they silently watch their favorite show of the year.

Opening music emanates from crackling speakers that vibrate with the intensity of the volume. Sound waves and electrical currents extend outwards to lock the couple in place. The sound lulls them into a hypnotic trance, as the flickering and pulsing lights enter their pupils. Deep within their skulls, the light waves root into soft, gray matter. Tendrils extend through every pathway and cause their brains to pulse in synchronization to what's being emitted. They're now one with the show.

Announcer: "Welcome everyone! To our one-hundred and twentieth National Olympic: Battle of the Twoooooooooo Wits!"

The crowd cheers wildly and loudly stomp their feet. Popcorn and different items fly into the air.

Announcer: "There seems to be a higher turnout this year! I hope you have all prepared yourselves accordingly, because we have a real treat in store for all of you. Indeed, this year's competition will have some new surprises and challenges awaiting our contenders. Let's bring them out, why don't we?"

Drumroll plays

Strobe lights shine and flicker on the audience. Spotlights brightly illuminate the curtains on the stage. A solitary red chair rests on the right side with a blue chair opposite to it.

Announcer: "Contestant number one hails from Bath, England. A beautiful place that would surely transport you into another era. Let's have a cheer for Nigel Sinpoolton!"

Gentle, self-contained claps come from the audience, as Mr. Simpoolton—wearing a gray jacket and brown pants—graciously walks out from behind the curtains. He tips his hat and bows before proceeding to walk to his blue chair. A cough emerges from his throat and he lifts his hand to cover his mouth.

"Pardon me," he gives the announcer an apologetic look.

Announcer: "Isn't he precious? How phlegmatic and well-mannered of him! Too bad this isn't football. Now, on to our second contestant. From the other side of the Atlantic and a city we all know too well, ladies and gentlemen weeeelcome ... New York's finest: Chad Clotnitsy!"

A young man bursts onto the stage. The crowd hollers and bellows his name in an uproar.

"What's up?!!" He yells.

Strutting to his red chair, he stops to fix his white shirt and adjust his jeans. He winks at a woman in the crowd before sitting down.

Announcer: "You men out there better hold on to your ladies! We've got a real charmer here. Look at that thickhead of hair! Right then, before we begin some physical challenges, we'll be starting with three questions for each of our contestants. Questions will be asked and these fine gentlemen here must answer in turns. Contestants, are you reeeeeeeady?"

Mr. Sinpoolton nods.

"Hell yeah! Let's get this party rollin'!" Clotnitsy screams.

Announcer: "Mr. Clotnitsy, I believe your parents made a mistake in naming you Chad. Brock would have been more suitable. Question number one: How would you describe the first place you lived in?"

"With words." Mr. Sinpoolton says.

Announcer: "With words ... a telling trait, indeed. Short, brief and to the point ladies and gentlemen. A man of few words. But full of meaning and logic within its simplicity. Our other contestant has yet to answer."

Mr. Clotnitsy stares off into space, deeply in thought and with a glazed look in his eyes. A heavy and suspenseful pause continues long after the announcer refers to him.

Announcer: "Mr. Clotnitsy, I don't want to interrupt you from the answer you're trying to create, but we are limited on time here. Can you please answer the question?"

"God?" Mr. Clotnitsy asks.

Announcer: "What? Oh, I see what you did there. He one upped Mr. Sinpoolton and provided a one word answer! Full of depth. The metaphysical route, ladies and gentlemen! An answer which contains more questions than answers within itself."

The crowd murmurs and nods.

Announcer: "On to the next question. This one is about statistical population. Question number two: In your opinion, what are some of the most frightening statistics you've ever encountered and what do they mean to you?"

"My word ... those percentages on those graphs are always telling figures and frightening indeed. It never ceases to amaze me, how they know the exact number of humans on the planet and what each are doing or thinking. There's not one I can think of at the moment, but they always remind me that I should have kept mum at my wife's side." Mr. Sinpoolton says.

Announcer: "I understand what you mean, it's always wise to keep mum. Mr. Clotnitsy?"

"Global Warming and—"

Announcer: "This just in ladies and gentlemen: We've just received an alert about a giant asteroid headed our way ... with an ETA of five hours?!? Regretfully, we must conclude the one-hundred and twentieth National Olympic: Battle of the Two Wits. Some of us must prepare to disembark this planet—present company included—but don't let that interrupt your television viewing! Please enjoy a segment about Farces: The People Who Love Them and Implement Them in their Daily Lives. With exciting new proclivities, such as people jumping out of their moving vehicles and dancing in the street! We're grateful for your viewership! Without you, we wouldn't exist—oh to hell with this, world's going to hell in a hand basket anyway. I have to go!"

Microphone thumps and screeches

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeep

"Please wait, while we commence the new programming", a robotic voice says.

Text flashes on the monitor: Please enjoy The Girl from Ipanema in the meantime.

[There should be a GIF or video here. Update the app now to see it.]

"What did he just say?" Jane pries her eyes away from the TV and stares at her husband.

Humming along with the music, Joe shrugs. "Something about a new show that's going to be shown. It was called farces or something like that."

"Oh, I heard about that one! It's supposed to be extremely entertaining! All right then," she turns to look at the image on the TV and loses her train of thought.

Scrolling letters over the shadow of a man playing the saxophone advises viewers to please remain seated. The Girl from Ipanema drones on.

"Say, you me to go make some popcorn while we wait?"

"The TV is telling us to stay seated." Jane says absentmindedly.

"Let's live a little. Plus, it'll only take a minute."

"I guess there's no harm ... will probably be ready by the time the show starts anyway."

"That's the spirit! I'll be right back."

Hours pass while they enjoy several more shows. On the screen, a cat runs into a house and startles an old woman walking into a kitchen. The image distorts, pixelates and shortly turns black.

"What the hell is wrong with this damn thing?!?" Joe runs over and hits the top of the TV several times, "I knew we should've replaced this old thing. Come on, you!" He smacks it on the side.

"Did you hear that?" Jane asks.

"Hear what?"

A rumbling echoes from afar.

"What is that?" Jane looks around.

"I'm not sure."

The walls begin to shake.

"What's happening, Joe?!?"

He slips and falls to the floor. "Don't worry, it's probably just a small earthquake. It'll be over in no time."

The floor creaks and groans. Picture frames fall from the walls and shatter on the floor. Items wobble and slide of the coffee table.

"Joe ..."

"Just stay there Jane, it'll—" the TV collapses on top of him.

"Joe!"

Cracks spread from the floor and walls. Jane runs over to Joe and attempts to remove the TV away from his head.

"And you wanted to buy a bigger flatscreen!" Sweat trickles from her forehead. Her face is flush and her arms shake as she strains to lift it.

A giant tsunami barrels onto their house. Streams of water cause Joe's body to slide away, smacking him against the kitchen wall. His loveseat follows and crashes into him. Other items begin to pile over him.

With a loud crack, the side of the house breaks apart. Jane's swept away, screaming and hugging the broken flatscreen.

But on a more positive note—and against previous predictions—Neighborhood Cats beats Farces by a landslide just minutes before the asteroid destroys the world.

**************
That last part of the announcer was included in my The End short story. Wordplay had been included in that one and several others in this book.

Wordplay:
Word play or wordplay is a literary technique and a form of wit in which the words used become the main subject of the work, primarily for the purpose of intended effect or amusement.

Clot:
A foolish or clumsy person.
Goes along with Sinpoolton [simpleton: foolish or gullible person] and thickhead [fool].

Brock:
A badger.

Phlegmatic:
A calm or unemotional individual. Usually used to describe a passive disposition.