QVC

QVC
Take a look at my latest book! Conversations a KDP Select Book

“My guest tonight will read from Alfred Lord Tennyson’s works.”

    “Bill wake-up.”

   “Huh, what, oh, was I sleeping?”

   “You dozed a little, musta been having a bad dream. Figured I best wake you, snap you out of it.”

   “Benny, It was a horrible dream. David on QVC had a guest and they were talking about blueberry apple scones.”

   “You don’t watch QVC.”

   “My mom does, she’s always buying stuff on that channel, I hate it. They really sucker in the old folks with their charm and easy payments.”

   “Do you remember any of it?”

   “Any of what…?”

   “The dream,” implored Benny.

   “Oh yea, it was horrible. After the blueberry apple scones David Kitchens and his guest, Shantel from New Orleans were cooking fire breathing kale and shrimp from the new roaster that was only three easy payments of $99 a month. Then Shantel disappeared and Calypso Vega came on the set and cooked Coconut veggie burgers in a tropical colored grill that automatically cleaned itself for four low easy payments with your Q card of just $119 a month, but it didn’t end there.”

   “What happened next?”

   “Miranda came out and started selling ten inch tablets, that were Andriods, and you could hang them like pictures or take them to the office, and hook them to the cloud, or connect them to 3D printers that made thousands of toys for kids you don’t have and then turn the toys into life managers that could buy more apps without your permission, and drain your bank account.”

   “That’s our modern world. Its breeding laziness and ignorance, soon we’ll all be stupid.”

   “Yeah, you’re right about that. So any way the dream shifted to my mom watching these purveyors of delusional lives constantly selling crap and I freaked out. She was sitting there in her recliner, talking and rambling about ‘I could use that. Wow, only nine easy pays, and I could have a rolling cart that is turquoise—which goes with my new grill—so I can put my nutty blaster on the other counter to make fritters for your papa.’ Mom, Dad doesn’t eat fritters, I told her. She just waved me off like I was some nonsensical idiot trying to delude her with crazy ideas.  Yeah in the dream I turned into the bad guy, my Mom thought I was evil trying to stop her from happiness.”

   “Did she throw something at you like last time?”

   “No, this time it got worse before it got better. Miranda disappeared and Lori from Shark tank came on selling jewelry with a model. The model was cute, nice brown hair, long and wavy, but the horror was soon unveiled. Lori opened up a case for jewels that constantly opened into new and ever expanding sections. It had draws that had more draws, and doors that were hidden behind more doors, soon I was trapped by emeralds and diamonds behind a thousand doors and no-way out. Mom was in her recliner saying ‘I want that, I need that.’ She got on the phone and asked if she could get three easy Q card payments. Lori talked to her, smiling right into the camera, pulling her in, taking her back to her youth, dreaming of glamour, and having the desires of strong affectionate men. I’m telling you, my mom saw herself as twenty-five again, and partying on Lori’s yacht. She bought the case. Lori thanked her then disappeared. I screamed at the top of my lungs STOP! STOP!”

   “Is that when I woke you?”

   “No, there was a moment of peace; suddenly I was a guest on re-runs of Q & A on C-Span. Brian Lamb asked me about my new book of Tennyson quotes and other thoughts. I responded to several enlightening questions that brought viewers to the inner-sanctum of deep thought. But my Mom called in and said right on the phone, to a national audience, ‘My sons an idiot. He wouldn’t know how to write a book on anything that really matters. Like how do you bake coconut custard pudding while reading your eBook in your motorized reclining chair while watching QVC and never have to get up and turn on the oven. That’s what’s important in life.’

   “It’s like Mick says, ‘you can’t get no satisfaction,’” Benny commented, then added, “Let’s make a pizza.”

    Finished version of this story is titled Home Shopping. It's in my latest book, Conversations.

Copyright © 2015

Artemis J Jones

#FlashFiction  This is a draft.

The Obituary

The Obituary

My first impression was: is this photo of Shelly photo shopped?  She was smiling.  I worked with her for twelve years, quit, and later came back to work another eight years with her and I never saw Shelly  smile once. She was my boss, not directly, she was the owner’s daughter and she took care of the accounting.

   I wasn’t  happy about her death, but it was expected. Shelly smoked, drank—like a fish—and never looked healthy. Her partying gold digger boyfriend John, only added to her overall deterioration.

   John, in polite company, was a lush, but in honest company, he was a sponge ready and willing to soak up any amount of funds he could get his hands on. Someday Shelly’s replacement will find a trail that leads to John, and a lot of used up missing cash. But what does that have to do with Shelly’s obituary?

Plenty.

   To be sympathetic, the obit was written by one of Shelly’s sisters. As a family they all seemed close, but you could tell there were differences among the Strunk clan.  Shelly and her twin Kelly were both average looking, slightly unattractive, and both had the same habits.  The other two sisters, were more health conscious, obviously did better in school, and married successful people.

   Let’s take some actual quotes from the real obituary.  “Died after a courageous battle with cancer.” False, she went where her money could take her but never made any attempt to battle the disease. She continued to smoke, and drink— to newer higher excesses—and never made any attempt to change her life. There was nothing courageous about it, she gave up the day she was diagnosed.

Next.

   “Never one to sit idle, even for a moment.” False, she only came to work when she had to, she hated her boring job, and frequently came in late, sleeping off a hangover. When she did arrive, usually after ten in the morning, she left for a two hour liquid lunch, and returned to her office late. But let’s be fair, she did work past closing time, sometimes as late as five thirty. Of course,  after closing time, it was drinking time.  Shelly was an alcoholic.

Next.

   “She had an abundance of pride for her only son Stephen.”  She loved her kid, in her own miserable drunken sot way—but pride? Not by a long shot.  She complained to the staff openly about the number of times he was in re-hab, she constantly shook her head in disgrace at him when he came in the business with really dark, old fart, sunglasses on to ask for money.  She had to fire her own son at least six times from a cushy job that he never deserved.  

Next.

   “Shelly shared a most unique bond with her identical twin sister Kelly.” True.  They were both party animals in their youth, they were both unhappily married on the same day, both divorced quickly after they realized their first husbands could only have sex with them when they ( the husbands )were drunk.  

    Next.

   Okay, so it isn’t wine and roses. It wasn’t a fairy tale life. After all the fancy words someone lost a family member, and a sponge lost a revenue stream.

   But why write a bunch of lies?  Of course we all have a tendency to think about ourselves in a state of constant regard for our family and friends, always caring, always loving, and always thoughtful.  We never see ourselves living—not for one single moment— in pursuit of selfish pleasure. So why do we write a bunch of lies about the dead?

   Because the truth hurts too much.

The Weight of the World

The Weight of the World

When will man ever be satisfied with his own existence?

This is the question that Harry asks to himself out loud every morning. Harry gets up at precisely 6 am. each day and prepares his morning nourishments. Then he walks out onto his teak deck over-looking the forest. 

Harry is a genius. 

Ever since man has had a whim of his power and prowess of the land, he has sought conquest: conquest of other men, other living creatures, and himself.  Modern man fights disease, enforces the rule of law, builds technologically complex structures and because of all this, man seeks to re-create himself as an automated machine in the form of A.I robotics.

Harry lives in this modern world. He is a large integral part of it: the constant development of mans knowledge to further enhance the reach of the human race. Yet Harry gets up every day and asks himself a troubling question. He is concerned that man is going to far, that mankind should stop the march of progress and just be happy with what we’ve got. That conflict drives Harry onward.

Watch Arrival Right Now

Harry is a savant, young, brash when required, and gentleman when not. He easily moves from the laboratory to the boardroom with the comfort only afforded to a modern guru. Harry knows that he can control man and change his behaviors, thereby affecting the future actions of all mankind. He also knows that the wars, greed, sexual over gratification, and hypocrisy will continue no matter what he does. The playing field will alter a little, robots will fight other robots, but in the end it will only have value if other humans die. Humans seem to cherish life precisely because they know that they can destroy it. Humans feel powerful knowing they can remove the ultimate reward, life, and in doing so constantly test their will to cherish life.

Harry knows the essential battle that takes place in the minds of humans each and every day, of each and every human being, is this: Who must I conquer today in order to survive tomorrow?  That survival  not just be the physical form, but must include the idealism inside of each and every human being. Ideals that crash. Ideals that conflict.

Humans do find others who agree, and they live together because they all support a designed survival plan. Sometimes these groups are large and well organized. The power of these human organized groups is impressive—albeit to the members of that group—but there is always a need to increase membership for the survival of each specific group, and that is where conflict among humans always finds a spark. Atoms in human cells energized in pursuit of domination. The rage of neurons begins. 

Tomorrow Harry will get up at 6am, make his morning nourishments, walk out onto his teak deck, and ask himself the same question. Then he will go downstairs get in his Tesla and leave for the office.  Harry is many things, but he will never be able to answer the question that he poses to his great mind each and every day.

 Artemis J Jones 2016