Sex and Death in Television Town

by Carlton Mellick III

  CHAPTER ONE

  The six strangers arrive in Telos through a manhole.

  “It is just like home,” Random says.

  The town does resemble Random’s home town, Jackson. But most cities look like Jackson. A typical Old West town. Full of wooded patchwork buildings.

  “Where are they?” Nixx asks.

  “Are they all dead?” Random asks.

  “It’s still early,” Cry says. “Nobody’s awake yet.”

  But then they see one of them, over by the general store: A stocky man wearing overalls and a box on his head, sweeping mud off the porch.

  The six of them approach the man and notice he doesn’t have a box on his head. His head is just box-shaped. It is a television/head. Right now, some nature channel is on. A show about a zebra drinking from a meadow.

  “What is it?” Sharp asks.

  “One of them,” Oxy says. “A bastard Telosian.”

  “What the hell is wrong with his head?”

  The television man faces them and adjusts the volume dial so that the strangers can hear the television show more clearly. He just stands there, facing them.

  The narrator of the nature program is discussing the lifestyle of the zebra. None of these strangers have ever seen a zebra before, though Random has seen one in a picture book. It amazes him to see one come to life inside of this Telosian’s head.

  The television man turns the knob on his cheek and his face changes from a nature show to an infomercial on some kind of cooking doodad. He waves his hand inside of his shop, trying to lure them in with a dirty finger.

  “What is that?” Sharp asks about the kitchen utensil. “Why did his face change like that?”

  “I think that’s their language,” Oxy says.

  The six of them walk on and the shop keeper tries to clamper after but his face starts to go a bit fuzzy. He adjusts the long metal antennas on his head until the picture is clear, then continues sweeping his porch.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “What do we do?” Random asks. “Are we safe here?”

  “The goblins won’t attack Telos unless they know we’re here,” Cry says.

  “Do they know we’re here?” Sharp asks.

  “Probably,” Cry responds.

  Walking the dirt road to the center of town, only the saloon seems alive. People still awake from all-night drinking.

  A television man tumbles out of the saloon, rolling off of the porch backwards and he lands in the dirt. Out steps another television man with fancy black and white clothes. Standing tall and elbows out like bat wings. His antennas like devil horns.

  The tall Telosian’s face is playing a silent vampire movie. The one on the ground is playing a family sitcom.

  Random sits down in the soil and watches the sitcom. Right now there are some wacky neighbors coming over to visit some mischievous kids and a dog tracking mud onto the carpeting.

  The sitcom Telosian gets to his feet and zigzags his arms desperately at the other. Random tries to watch the sitcom but the screen keeps moving around frantic.

  The silent horror movie television man walks slowly to the twitchy one. He draws his gun. No, it is not a gun but a remote control. He points it at the sitcom face and fires.

  It doesn’t kill him. Just changes the channel.

  The sitcom face tumbles back. The show changes from the family sitcom to another sitcom with zany cross-dress- ing roommates. The sitcom face struggles to reclaim balance. But the horror face fires again and the roommate sitcom becomes a sitcom with kooky black people that tell jokes about being black people. Fires again. Another sitcom, one with screwball policemen hitting somebody on the forehead.

  The sitcom face rolls back. Another shot fired. His face now a sitcom with babies talking.

  The horror face then rapid fires his remote. The sitcom face flying all over like bullets are splashing blood from his body.

  His face changing to more and more sitcoms:

  Another wacky family sitcom, a redneck family sitcom, an office sitcom, a bar sitcom, a black people family sitcom, a rich white people family sitcom, a sitcom about a family who is supposed to be very poor but for some reason they live in a house that is upper middle-class, a sitcom about identical cousins, a people from outer space sitcom, a teen angst sitcom, a sitcom featuring the jokes of some standup comedian starring that standup comedian, an elderly women sitcom, a sitcom with eight-year-old ninjas, a sitcom with a fat person, a sitcom that was perhaps once a comedy but is now a very serious drama that is not funny nor dramatic, a high school surf band sitcom, an important hospital sitcom, a sitcom with social commentary and adorable children, a people at work who don’t seem to ever do any work sitcom, and a bunch of other sitcoms which seem to have no point but to exploit minorities.

  Then the horror face hits the power button on his remote and the sitcom face collapses, his screen becomes black with a white dot that slowly fades away.

  The horror face twirls his remote and slaps it into the holster on his thigh. Then goes back into the bar.

  Sharp goes to the television head and kicks him.

  “Dead,” she says.

  Oxy rubs his sideburns. “What the hell kind of shootout was that?”

  Other television heads are running down the street at them. One of them has a sheriff’s badge.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Nixx says.

  CHAPTER THREE

  They dart into the saloon before the television-headed sheriff with a very loud monster truck show on his face can spot them.

  Inside:

  Dozens of wobbling people with television heads. Gunslingers playing poker and drunks and bartenders and scantily dressed women. They are very human from the shoulders down. They wear similar clothes to humans and move with similar body motions. The saloon girls have bodies just like the girls from Jackson, the same silky laced clothes with fluffy parts and high-heeled shoes, flirting with the gunslingers that are winning at poker.

  The silent vampire movie faced Telosian is now comfortable at the head of one of the poker tables and is getting surrounded by several harlots with sexy detective shows on their screens, raccoon antennas like bows in their hair, caressing their human limbs around his back.

  Random keeps behind Nixx and Oxy as they step up to the bar. Two television heads are drinking whiskey by dumping shots down slits like speaker holes on the sides of their heads.

  The Telosians follow them with chaotic-flutter programs, trying to aim their screens in front of their faces. Death pushes away anyone who gets too close.

  Soon, all the people in the room are swarming them, sticking their electric heads into their path.

  “Get back,” Nixx squeals, pushing a short television head to the ground. “Do not invade this space,” he says, out- lining an invisible twenty-four inch border around his body.

  Oxy giggles with pleasure as the crowd tightens around them. Dozens of television shows swirling in their eyes, blinding them. Random goes dizzy when one of the electric harlots presses her screen against his face like a kiss. He sees her cat cartoon as tiny pixels of bright color and closes his eyes tight. Nixx has to pull him away from her willow-grip.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Nixx says.

  They pile out through a side door and cross the street. The strange people don’t seem interested in them enough to leave the bar.

  “What was that all about?” Random asks.

  “Keep walking,” Nixx says, his face at a 56 degree angle, concentrating on his footstep rhythm.

  Death leads them into an inn that is of similar design to the saloon, probably owned by the same people, and goes upstairs to bed.

  The others are left to deal with the innkeeper who buzzes at them with some old war movie on her face.

  “How are we supposed to pay?” Sharp asks.

  “Ignore her,” Cry says. “Let’s just find some empty rooms and go to sleep.”

  But before they make it halfway up the stairs, the innkeeper is outside b
uzzing through the streets with gun shots and cannon fires on her face. Getting the attentions of the TV-sheriff and his posse away from the dead sitcom face outside the saloon.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The television heads stand in the doorway at Random and Sex, the others already upstairs in their rooms, slipping off their dirty clothes.

  “What do we do?” Random asks.

  “See what happens,” Sex says.

  The sheriff’s monster truck show is blaring at them, his antennas sticking out of holes in his cowboy hat. The deputized TVs mock the sheriff in style. But they have several different program faces, from a baseball game to the weather channel to sitcoms to commercials with a totally-extreme-sports theme.

  “They’ve got nice bodies,” Sex says.

  She approaches the sheriff and looks him up and down. “Terrible heads, but they’re in shape,” goes around to the back of them, “tight asses,” and back to the front of the sheriff’s screen. “Not bad.”

  She walks back to Random. “Definitely worth a fuck,” she says. The television heads continue to stare at them. Heads blue-dazzling. The sheriff points at the furry gun in Random’s pants.

  “They want your gun,” Cry says. The sheriff draws his remote control and points it at the young man.

  “Should I give it to them?” Random asks.

  Cry says, “No.”

  “I’m going to hand it over,” Random says, hesitating in front of the strange gadget pointing at him, wondering if his face will mutate into something else if the sheriff pulls the trigger.

  “Don’t,” Cry says.

  Random pulls out his gun and the television heads leap back, whipping out their remote controls and clacking the buttons at the boy.

  Nothing happens.

  The crew keeps hitting the buttons at Sex and Random, but their weapons have no effect on them.

  Cry shows her teeth to Random and begins to caress her backside. The remote controls continue to fire click-click- click-click-click. She coos at them, shaking her stegosaurus spikes.

  Then Cry slides her blade from her back and lowers it into the sheriff’s head.

  The screen explodes into sparks and he crumbles to the ground. The others back away, still clicking their remotes at her. She swings her blade in a circle and smiles. The posse dissipates, running away while balancing their enormous heads.

  “Look,” Random says, pointing at the dead sheriff.

  The smoke is clearing from the broken television. Underneath the screen there is a human-like face. A bloody skull in the box, covered in gluey liquid. It is still alive, gasping at the air, skinless, eyeballs popping out at them. Several wires grow from its skull into the television set, like metal nerves.

  “Sexy,” Cry says, smoothing her fingers across the bloody skull as it becomes limp.

  She takes the sheriff’s handcuffs and remote control, plucks the badge from his shirt and attaches it to a hook on her chest.

  “What do you think?” Cry asks.

  Random blinks at her.

  She arches out her stegosaurus spikes and poses with

  the remote.

  “There’s a new lawman in town,” she says in a fake cowboy accent. Then she makes a gun with her fingers and winks at him.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Upstairs:

  Sharp and Oxy are tying a television woman to a chair.

  “What are you doing?” Random asks.

  “We want to watch her face,” Oxy says.

  The television woman squirms in her seat as they wrap her wrists and legs in rope. She’s not one of the saloon girls from across the street. Her blue dress is not flashy enough to be a saloon girl. A morning talk show on her face.

  There is something about her that reminds Random of Typi’s older sister, Merth. A gorgeously bashful woman who would do anything to make you happy. Movements like a fawn, only making soft flowery sounds.

  Oxy ties her neck and shoulders tight to the chair so that she can’t move her head very well. And they pick her up off the ground and bring her into one of the rooms.

  “Is there anymore of those up here?” Cry asks Nixx in the doorway.

  Nixx points to a door at the end of the hall.

  When Cry opens it, she sees one of them lying in a bed, fast asleep. His face is white with a high-pitched hum- ming. A long black chord runs from the back of his head to an outlet on the wall.

  She unplugs him and the television screen goes from

  white to a horse racing show. He kicks his legs around when Cry flips him onto his back and cuffs him.

  “You’re under arrest,” she whispers into his ear/ speaker excitedly.

  She pulls on his chord to wrench his head back, stretching his spine into a curl. Then she ties the chord to his ankles.

  “This bed is your prison cell,” she says.

  Random is watching from the door. Cry glares at him. She steps off the bed and creeps up into his face.

  “You want me to arrest you too?” She rolls her enormous tongue at him.

  Random blinks.

  She sniffs at the sweat on his neck.

  Then closes the door in his face.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Nixx saunters into the room where Oxy and Sharp are piled on a fluffy bed, their eyes glued to the television woman’s face.

  The greenish man looks out of the window. Television people are running around in circles in front of the inn.

  “What are we going to do about them?” Nixx asks the hermaphrodites.

  They don’t acknowledge him. They’re on the edge of their seats.

  “They look ready to tear this place down,” Nixx says.

  The others are hypnotized by the Telosian woman’s eyes, like she’s a radiant snake goddess.

  Nixx sits down next to them.

  The screen is playing a wrestling show. There are two enormous men wrestling two enormous men. One group of men dresses in flashy disco clothing with long hair and yellow beards. The other is a group of tough bikers with leather jackets and tattoos.

  “What’s this?” Nixx asks. It takes a few minutes before he gets a response.

  “I have no idea,” Oxy says, “but it is the greatest thing I have ever seen in my life.” “There were people talking about a book before,” Sharp says. “We hit a knob on her cheek by accident and her face became this.”

  “What is this?” Nixx asks. “What are those guys doing?”

  “Fighting!” Oxy cries. “Don’t you know fightin’ when you see it?”

  Nixx looks at the motley wrestlers. One of them jumps off of a rope and catches another man’s head between his thighs and pile-drives him into the mat.

  “Oh!” Oxy cries. “They are such magnificent fighters! Look at them! So beautiful! Have you ever seen a man do anything like that before?”

  A biker wrestler has a disco wrestler tied up in a knot.

  “There’s no way he can take that for much longer!” Oxy cries.

  Nixx gets up and examines the young television woman, her body quivering under the ropes.

  He sees two knobs on her face like Sharp said. Like tiny doorknobs. He turns one of them and the television woman twitches, her face changes from the wrestling show to a bunch of kids hopping up and down with plushy man-like animals.

  “Bring them back!” Oxy screams. Nixx returns her face to the wrestling show. “I can’t hear what she’s saying about the fighters,” Oxy says.

  He waves his fist at the woman. “Speak up!”

  Nixx tries turning the other knob and the television’s voice grows louder. He turns it up until the dials are parallel.

  “Ahhhh,” Oxy says. “She has voice controls.”

  The voice says: And here comes the Iron Raider from behind! What’s he got in has hand? Oh no, an aluminum base- ball bat! You gotta be kidding me! Ooooooohhh, right in the spinal column of Bodacious Bobby! This is not looking good for the Disco Studs. Bodacious Bobby is on the ground, he’s not moving, and Johnny Excitement can’t reac
h him to make the tag. What are they going to do? Oh no, the Hell’s Rollers get into the ring...

  “Come on, Johnny Excitement!” Oxy screams.

  Nixx shakes his head and shuffles out of the room to Random standing in the hallway.

  “What’s going on?” Nixx asks. Random points down the stairs. Through the open door, beyond the sheriff’s corpse, a Telosian mob is forming. Very loud television programs jumble together into a screechy blur.

  “She killed the sheriff?” Nixx asks.

  Random nods.

  “Why didn’t she tell me?” Nixx smacks his thigh.

  The television people storm into the entrance room until there is a flood of motion picture screens.

  “We better move,” Nixx says.

  Random is already locking himself into one of the rooms.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Jesus Christ is dreaming about a flower with a skull in it. There aren’t any people with arms or legs anywhere, just some torsos and a field of blue flowers where one flower grows petals from a little skull.

  “This is the machine,” a ratty voice says to him from behind.

  But Jesus wakes before he turns around to the ratty voice and hears cluttering footsteps in the hallway.

  He stands. Naked and dusty. Hair full of twigs and leaves. A musty scent in his crotch and underarms. His pubic hair is long and dreadlocked, burying his uncircumcised penis in knotty shrubs.

  He takes a pistol from a holster on a chair and uses it to push open his door.

  The hallway is full of television heads. They are just leaving, piling down the stairs. Death can hear the screams of Sharp as they drag her away.

  Out the window: the television heads have Random, Nixx, and Oxy tied to nooses in the center of the street. They stand on chairs and have styrofoam looks on their faces.