07-17-2012, 04:21 PM
Melody Morris sat in the worn, faded pink Barcalounger, absorbed into the plot of the latest episode of The Young and The Restless showing on the twenty-inch console television in the living room. Daytime dramas, her "stories" as she called them, were her primary if not her only escape from the dreariness of her life. The dilemmas and intrigues of the fictional characters on the small screen made her own problems pale by comparison; the plot twists and turns on every episode stimulated her work-dulled psyche. Their sorrows were her sorrows, their joys her joys, their anger, fears and frustrations, all were hers as well. If she could not live a life of glamor and excitement herself, she could live it through the soaps.
A slam of the back door, followed by a man's cursing, jolted her back into reality. Melody hesitated, if only to wait until a commercial break so as not to miss out on the action on TV, then went into the kitchen to see what was the matter.
She found Boone by the fridge, guzzling down the last of the milk straight from the jug. She did not admonish him for it; indeed, she had long since given up trying to teach Boone any type of civilized behavior. Instead, she simply asked, "So, what's the matter with you?"
Boone stopped guzzling milk, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, slammed the empty jug on the counter, and turned to face his mother. "(Bleeping) security guards threw me out on my ass, that's what's the matter!" he snapped.
"What security guards?"
"The ones at the Luxor Hotel, that's what! Here I am, trying to wake people up to the truth about the Apollo 11 mission, and I get hauled in for 'unlawful solicitation' or some such bull(bleep) like that! And," he stressed, zeroing in on his mother's face, "it turns out someone tipped them off about me ahead of time! I'll bet five bucks it was Roxy who did it!"
"No, Boone," Melody said, shaking her head, "it wasn't Roxy who called. It was me."
"That's right, me. I found the number in the phone book, called them and told them you'd be around causing trouble when Buzz Aldrin was there."
Boone was dumbfounded. "Mom! How could you?"
"Because I didn't want to have to post your bail if you got arrested," Melody replied, her anger growing. "It's bad enough you spend every waking hour in front of that computer, hammering out nonsense about UFOs and JFK or whatever--"
"It's not nonsense, Ma! I keep telling you--"
"--it's even worse when you have to go out in public to do it! Do you know what it's like having a lunatic for a son? You're an embarrassment to both of us, Boone! You have no job, no money, nothing but your crazy conspiracies that nobody believes! I can't stand it anymore!" She straightened herself and stared Boone in the eye. "You have one week, Boone," she said firmly, "one week to get a job and start paying your share of the rent here! If you don't, then you are out on your ass, big time! I'm not going to support you anymore, Boone. You're a grown man and you need to start being responsible for your life. You need to wake up and start living in the real world, and that means going out and making a real living."
The TYATR theme music sounded. "Think about it, Boone," Melody said. "One week--that's all you got. Now, I got to get back to my stories."
Melody returned to the comfort of the Barcalounger and her soap opera world. Boone stormed into the sanctity of his basement bedroom-cum-base of operations. (Bleep) her! he thought ferociously. An embarrassment, huh? She spends her time watching those stupid-assed soaps and says I'm wasting my life? The whole (bleeping) world is coming to an end and she doesn't give a diddly-damn about it! She's an embarrassment if you ask me! Too brainwashed by the media to see what's really going on in the world! Am I the only person around here who knows the truth about everything?
He sat down before his computer terminal and turned it on. Get a job, he fumed internally. Become a wage slave for The Man. Give up your God-given intellect for a weekly paycheck that Big Brother in Washington chews a big chunk out of to keep hard-working Americans in the dark about their covert activities! If you ask me, I think it's time for a nationwide strike!
He paused as a light went on in his mind. He had a vision of thousands--nay, millions--of ordinary Americans, fed up with government cover-ups, dropping everything and walking out of factories, offices or wherever they were employed, united in a single cause, bringing the country to its knees. It was awe-inspiring just to imagine such a thing.
"That's it!" he exclaimed enthusiastically. "That's what we should do!"
Elated, Boone's fingers flew over the keyboard. "Greetings, truthseekers!" he spoke as he typed. "Over the years I have tried through the Web to convince everyone that we would not stand for the lies and deceit your government has dished out to us disguised as 'truth'. Now, it's time we take action! It's time for us to stand up and say that we're mad as hell and we're not going to take it anymore! Therefore, I am calling for a NATIONWIDE STRIKE! Refuse to work at your job for The Man until the REAL truth is revealed! Bring the whole country to a standstill until Washington breaks down and confesses its errors! There is strength in numbers, and what is the government's few paltry thousand compared to the millions of decent, hardworking American citizens who are willing to stand up to them! WAKE UP, AMERICA! WE WILL NO LONGER BE DECEIVED"