|The Story||The Authors|
Melinda rush to him.
"Dont forget to pick something up for Joeys birthday. it is your sister!"
"Do I have to? I dont give a fuck about her anyway."
"Hickey! Just do it!"
"Yeah yeah yeah."
He went out and closed the door as he tougth:
With a terrified grunt Matthew turned the channel back the The Price Is
Right. It wasn't any good it seemed. He was on all the channels at once. At
least he stood a chance of watching himself win something good on this one.
Bob Barker was grinning malevolently over his cue cards at the quartet of contestants in front of him. His grey suit shimmering under the studio lights like a mirage. Matthew had turned the channel just in time to hear Bob in the middle of saying "...and you could win THIS!! dramatically turning to reveal a large cardboard box edged in gold as it lay on a display table gently shaded under the prominent bosom of the buxom woman who's job it was to stand next to such things and wave her hands in front of.
With a well practiced wholesome smile the GameShow Assistant gently lifted the
lid of the box. Almost immediately a rather pungent odor of musty decay seemed
to pour out and into Contestant's Row. Bob Barker spread his grin and the
lights verily sparkled off of the prominent caps of his canine teeth. "Show the
studio audience what you've got, Brandi" Brandi leaned forward and carefully
tilted the gilt edged box causually revealing a long enticing line of cleavage
that arrested Matthew's attention for a looooooooong moment before he
could tear himself away to peer at the contents. It was a large beetle.
A scarab, more exactly. An immense fist-sized Dung Beetle blindly and in an almost panic stricken manner rolling a tremendous ball of excrement helplessly around and around in the bottom of the box. It clicked horribly to itself trying for all its worth to escape from its confinement with its meager treasure.
"Well contestants, how much do you bid on Matthew J. Hickey's immortal soul? Matthew?"
Hickey blanched visibly. He gurgled. He stuttered. He searched wildly around the deepest recesses of his mind for an answer. How could he be expected to answer a question like that? This was His immortal soul they were talking about.
"....ah, um,....aba homina...uh, oh shit, uh....uh..."
"Watch the language there, kid, there may be children watching," cracked Bob to the immense amusement of the studio audience,"We need a dollar value.
"...uh, uh, One, ah, ah One Billion Dollars!!" he finally blurted out.
Bob Barker turned a jaded look to the camera and casually raised an eyebrow before turning to the contestant on Matthew's left. "How about you, Irwin.?"
To his left, Irwin Bartlebee looked gave Matthew a quick scrutiny. Figuring that if anyone would have a good idea of the approximate value of their immortal soul, Matthew would, he tried to outfox him. "One billion and one dollars, there Bob." Again the raised eyebrow, and he turned to Matthew's left. "Tamera, remember the closest one to the actual retail value without going over wins the prize. Your bid"
Tamera Julius leaned over the mike and giggled. Turned back to the audience. Behind her rose a cacaphony of voices shreiking out seemingly random numbers. She turned back to Bob. Leaned over the mike again and stamped her feet, afraid of committing to a number. "Bob, I bid..(hehehe)I bid..(turn to family in twentieth row) Bob I bid...Three,(hehehee)(little nervous stamping)Three hundred million dollars." Bob sighed and made a mock comic shrug of resignation and turned at to the last contestant, Myrtle Spunkherder of Waukeshau, Wisconsin.
"Now Myrtle, Your bid."
Myrtle leaned her bulk over the microphone and intoned with a nasal Midwestern twang of smugness that caused her hammy jowls to shudder convulsivly, "Bob, I bid ONEdollar."
Bob Barker smiled and triumphantly raised the cue card. "And the actual retail Value IS...a dramatic pause Thirty Seven Dollars and Sixty Five Cents! Myrtle Spunkherder YOU are our next contestant!!"
The bells rang and the audience cheered and Matthew watched helplessly as the obese asthmatic bulk of Myrtle Spunkherder waddled up the three steps to the stage to play the next round.