The Remote

by capst


"It was nice of Bob and Betty to let us use their place for a few days, wasn't it?" Candy Martin asked her husband, Bruce.

"Yeah," Bruce replied rather unenthusiastically for a 45 year old man who, by sponging of his wife's friends, was saving a bundle on hotel bills. After all, it was pure luck that Bob and Betty were going out of town for one of their egghead scientist meetings at the same Candy and Bruce needed to come into town for a nephew's wedding.

"I just wish I could find the remote for this television," Bruce complained. He got up to look for the remote.

He came across it in the drawer of the pine cabinet. "Hey, look at this, Candy. Have you ever seen so many buttons?"

Bruce sat back down on the couch, annoyed that Candy had grabbed the corner spot while he was up. None of the legends on the remote looked familiar to him, except the familiar up and down arrows. He pushed up and a red light flashed but the television didn't react. He pushed down to no avail.

"What are these things," Candy asked, trying to grab the remote from Bruce's hand. She brushed the top row of buttons, causing led indicators to light over the buttons marked CLOTH. ADJ, MENT. ADJ and AWARENESS.

Bruce tried to retain control of the remote, squeezing tightly on the down arrow. The unit was pointed almost vertically, and the invisible beam bounced off the ceiling and bathed Candy and Bruce in its invisible beam, a bit more on Bruce than Candy.

"Hey, no fair," whined 8 year old Bruce when Candy pulled the remote from his hand. "Stop touchin' me. I don't wanna' get cooties." Bruce headed for the kitchen to look for some cookies.

"Dumb thing don't work anyway," 10 year old Candy responded as she left the couch in search of a Barbie doll to play with.

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