“Fuck.”
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck this fucking shit.”
**********
“Sir, the contestants are ready. We start shooting in 5.”
He shuffles away, immune to the daggers of hate-fire launching from my eyes like tiny hateful solar flares. Why god, why did I want this?
“Queue the intro.”
I fucking hate the intro. The same goddamned song every goddamned night for 23 goddamned years. I didn’t plan to stick around for 23 years, this was supposed to be a stepping stone to a talk show or something, anything. But the show took off, the checks got bigger and bigger and the models were hot so why the hell not right? I’ll tell you why the hell not you idiot; it never. fucking. changes. Never. It’s the same show every night, with three new dipshit contestants and the same asinine chit-chat before we launch into the really inane ‘game’ that America fucking loves. I don’t know why and I don’t care.
The announcer interrupts my thoughts with his overly enthusiastic introduction; “Ladies and gentlemen your host Jack Saypat!”
“Fucking douche. I fucking hate that douche.”
I walk on stage, grinning like a fucking moron, nodding to the live audience even though they’re all asshats. Fat loud asshats here on the vacation of a fucking life time. They’ll stalk the studio exits for autographs and hand shakes from the man they spend every night (every single fucking night) watching on TV.
“Let’s welcome tonight’s contestants!”
Right, because I cannot fucking wait to hear how many kids Alice has and what her lardass husband does for a living.
“Alice is here from Toledo, tell us about yourself Alice.”
Shut the fuck up Alice. I don’t listen anymore, there’s no reason to. This is not a two way conversation even though that’s what we make it seem like. She tells America about her husband Todd and when she’s done I’ll ask the next dipshit the same question in a different way.
“Roger I hear you have a curious hobby?”
Roger does have a curious hobby but I don’t know what it is and I don’t fucking care.
“And last but certainly not least, our returning champion Christy whose three day winnings total $34,500!”
She starts talking, which is good because I don’t know what bullshit questions I asked yesterday and the days before. After waaay too much time she stops telling us about her fucking cats and we begin the program in earnest. My soul dies a little more and for the thirty gazillionth time I say; “Spin! That! Wheel!”
I completely zone out for the rest of the show. Total auto pilot. “Jack I’d like to buy a vowel.” Ugh. Why do they have to ask me this? Why? How does this apply to the game? Have I ever said no? Do you know how much I want to say “Sorry, vowels aren’t for sale today.” I usually spend a solid 25% of the taping just thinking about this. Just the vowels, that they have to be ‘bought’, who sells vowels? Why? It doesn’t make any sense.
“Jack I’d like to solve the puzzle. People Eat Schoolbus Tornados.”
How would you respond to that shit? People eat schoolbus tornados? No that’s not the fucking phrase, the category is American History you fucktard. And no matter what the category was that crap doesn’t make any sense. You’re probably the first person in all of human history to put those four words together in that order. Congratulations, you are humanity’s new low.
“I’m sorry Alice, that’s not the correct phrase. Christy, it’s your spin.”
Three puzzles later and we’re into my next least favorite part of the show. The final round, where I have to go chit chat with the days winner, Alice, despite her insanely wrong guesses has bested Christy and Roger…imagine that.
“You know how this works Alice, you can pick 4 letters and you have 30 seconds to solve the puzzle.”
Alice does not know how this works. She is totally bewildered and I’m not inclined to be helpful.
“What letters would you like Alice?”
What letters indeed, as if it mattered. Alice doesn’t try to solve the puzzles so much as shout words that maybe kinda sorta might fit into the space available. And remember she beat the other two dolts.
“X”
“X? Are you sure Alice?”
“Yes Jack, I’d like an X, T, C, and F please.”
You got it Alice, you fucking got it. The long time letter revealing model glances my way, she hates this shit too.
Alice’s letters are not part of tonight’s puzzle. Alice proceeds to pull words out of her limited mental dictionary for 30 seconds before we’re all saved by the final buzzer.
“I’m sorry Alice but on the bright side you’re leaving tonight with $8,300 and a trip to Cabo!”
Alice is pretty excited and frankly I am too, but for entirely different reasons. I was sick of looking at Christy’s mustache and when you get close she smelled like old cheese. It also means taping is done for the day and I am free from this banality, until tomorrow anyway. I’m Jack Saypat and this is my life.
Implied Mortality 