Writing Exercize Number Three

Jacquelyn gave me another writing prompt, apparently inspired by the bath she was taking when the idea hit her.  She said to me, calling from the tub, "Jeremy, I have a writing prompt for you."  Oh, God, here we go, I thought.  "Start off with this sentence... 'I first realized that something was terribly wrong when I pressed the OFF button several times and nothing happened.'  You have fifteen minutes."  I said that I wouldn't do it then walked out of the bathroom, leaving her to her soapy water and nakedness.  Then I went to my computer and wrote this.

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I first realized that something was terribly wrong when I pressed the OFF button several times and nothing happened.  I wasn’t watching the screen.  I merely pressed the button again.  Nothing.  I changed the channels, click, click, click.  One more.  Click.  A commercial for “male-enhancement.”  Click.  Some formulaic sitcom. Click.  Junk-in-the-trunk booty shakers dancing around a man in over-sized sportswear with a “grill of bling.” Click.  A blustered and flustered preacher spat sermons at sinners in that below-the-Mason-Dixon-Line accent that only televangelists can muster.  Out of spite, I pressed the ON button.  True to form, the television remained on.  I tried off again.  Nothing.  I decided to change the channel.  Click.  Nothing.  The preacher remained, and by now had worked him up into a fire-and-brimstone frothy orgasm of apocalyptic pronunciations.  Click. Click. Click.  The preacher remained.  His rosy cheeks and the spittle from his mouth taunted my failure, as if he was personally reprimanding me for my wasted time in front of this Satanic box of technology, idle hands, idle minds, opening a full-fledged Devil’s workshop quickly filled with commercials for consumer goods and services, the latest celebrities to emulate, the political pundits to quote, all depraved and degraded, unholy sinners and fornicators all of them.  Except for the preacher, who somehow claims to be above all of it and how God will save us, how Jesus will save us, how the apocalypse will come and those who are righteous will be take away from all of this. Well fuck you, preacher man.  Fuck you.  I unplug the television.  “Now, Jeremy, why would you do that to me,” the preacher says.  I freeze.  “Yes, you heard me.  I came special to bring you this message and you deny the power of the Almighty- you think this power over your television is some technological issue?  Oh no, son, I have come to bring you to Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior.”  What the fuck? I thought, What the fuck?