Young Writers Society

Previously on Share and Cherish:

I was free to choose between a wide range of free time activities … I abandoned myself to … dreams that set in the space surrounding me and whose main character was dressed just like me… I went down to Edgar and raised the subject… You need to stop worrying. Two minutes is nearly half nothing … We were walking past the front gardens … Do you know how the world is beyond that mountain? … humans who aren't like us … humans who … don’t respect nature … force it into their delusions… behind their fancy phones, … They’re a bunch of well-organised psychos!

I had no memory of a day I hadn’t slept on the upper room of the village chateau and gone downstairs the next day to speak to Edgar. I didn’t know why I did it either. I had never told others what I was to say to him. Good thing he always listened. Edgar had given me everything — education, family, leisure. Why he never asked for anything in return, that would remain a mystery.

I used to play outside with my friends, far away from the village. We played “tag” there, as “hyde-and-seek” was a tad difficult in the plains. By noon, before we went back home, I asked them about the things Edgar had told me about humans living beyond the mountains. They were dumbstruck. Was there anyone like us outside the village? one of them asked. Well, not like us, I told them. I was scaring them, so I pretty much gave up trying asking questions. Edgar was the only one who knew…

One day he brought me to the basement. There was a telly and two comfortable seats. We sat down and he turned the telly on. The telly showed a man lying on the ground, another one pointing him a gun.

“Please don’t kill me!”

He didn’t know why they wanted to kill him (we didn’t either!) The suspense was getting increasingly higher with each close-up of his so-called-friends’ faces — also with the recurring tune coming from a dissonant string orchestra.

“I will kill you…” was he saying at the terrified look of the man he was pointing the gun at, “unless you switch to Zotran mobile.” Everybody looks at the assassin, the suspense they were feeling moments before gives rise to an unusual interest showering their faces.

“Haven’t you heard about it? Well, allow me to explain.” And he turns into the thin window that would separate us from the likely assassin — yes, the fine screen. You can have twenty thousand minutes of free calls to all networks, as long as you — and that’s all you gotta do — pay a hundred bucks a month.”

The man in suffering pleads, “Is that all I gotta do?”

“Sounds like a lotta money for just a bunch of free calls!” said Edgar, trying to rescue me from those thoughts. Too late, though! I was glued, relentless, impassive, glassy eyes on the telly. “Oh, you’re too young for this stuff”, he finally said, almost forgetting me, then he switched off the telly.

During that month of May, Edgar kept bringing me to the basement to turn the telly on. He wanted me to see how humans were beyond the mountains. It was harder on the hotter days, when you could smell the apples from the veranda. Edgar said it gave me strength to stay in front of the telly.

It didn’t take me too long to figure out commercials were flooding the old telly. They could go from some short ten seconds to the mighty length of a film. Those could go for as long as seven hours, advertising included. And sometimes it was even harder to set apart the commercial ending from the aesthetic one, especially in the key points. And this was starting to get more frequent.

“Oh, I remember now!”

I had already seen that ending. In the original film, one of the so-called-friends killed this and every other man, except for the one lying on the ground. It was then that he walked up onto him and said, “I love you so much.” That was when he ran away, and this is how it ended.

Edgar was answering a question I didn’t get to ask, but I still couldn’t understand who was the meaner — the assassin or the people who created his story?

I asked for him to turn the telly back on. Knowing how sensitive I was to this kind of things, he gave in.

A young miss sitting down with a nice feller at a restaurant. At some point he’s about to propose to her. However, no sooner had he found words to indulge himself in, than the miss forcefully sneezed, drenching herself in muck. The people around filled themselves with disgust at the sheer sight of the young grimy miss, except for the broom-to-be — he was laughing out loud. She desperately looks for a handkerchief, but the poor thing is so filled with slime, she herself — if she would be able to watch herself unconscious from outside — would be impressed.

“Want an handkerchief?”

Humiliated, the miss accepts it.

He’s going to give her one. He stops.

“However, I might have a better solution, if you know what I mean.

Close up of winking eye.

“And what is it?” asks the young miss with sudden interest — interest which was shared equally, both in and out of the screen. The broom-to-be then takes something out of his pocket. As in a magic trick, a teal pill.

“This pill will keep you from sneezing hard.”

“And how’ that?”

I gotta explain, don’t I?” he replies with an affected dullness.

Wink, wink.

“The pill is teal, like the mucus out of your nose. The two attract each other mutually, like meh and ya.” So when you take it, the mucus will be seamlessly pulled inwards. And that will keep you from sneezing hard, cupcake! But, in the case you’ll have to do it, you’ll at least have just the right amount of time to squeeze your nose.

“Ooh, thank you, sweetheart!

A funereal silence permeated through the restaurant — everyone was waiting for the handsome wooer to say something to the young miss. He opened his mouth, but no word was coming out.

“Well, I know what you’re gonna ask. My answer is… Yes! Yes!! I love you, honey.”

At the wedding, there comes the time when they let the bride kiss the groom. It is in that moment when their mouths come closer that the woman is about to sneeze. However, though costly, she’s able to control herself. The groom smiles and turns back at the screen.

“Long story short, we’ve rid ourselves of the lousy muck astray! Take the teal pill, and keep the slimy snot away. For all day.

Outside, a slice of teal snot rose up from the stairs and walked away, all packed up. As it was disappearing beyond the horizon, a tiny print text was sliding below, and a sped-up voice could be heard over.

“The teal pill does not have the same effects in all people. It is not intended to diagnose, mitigate, treat, cure or avoid any disease or health condition. Contact a health care provider immediately if you suspect you have a medical problem or chain reaction.” Then the screen went black, as the voice slowed down, “Now available at a pharmacy near you.”

Edgar laughed scornfully and looked at me. At some point they would offer the spray to prevent hives. He then changed the channel. This was the way he had found for me not to become hooked — somehow a black mirror for a few seconds would bring me to that basement again.

Two characters were involved in some kind of raunchy, but serious, activity. In this kind of situation (speaking of commercials) you bump into everything around you. Although in this specific situation (speaking of the action) there is always something missing. Something you cannot finish without.

He takes a piece of foil from his pocket. “That’s not enough.” He unfolds the foil in two parts. “Not yet,” she protests. He unfolds the pair in four parts. “More, I want more!” she shouts. Confused, he — and confused we — unfolds the quartet in eight, then in sixteen parts, and waits for the verdict. “Yes!” she squeals with excitement. He throws himself in (to where?) — as a lewd voice is heard over a picture of the main foil.

“Now unfoldable, so the protection never stops being enough… with the same ol’ discretion.

Edgar promptly turns the telly off. “No!” I scream in agony.

“But I want to keep watching…”

He would leave me there, but there was a chance of me being not able to catch an apple in the back of the gardens. “Alright…” I finally said. I went in front of him, but as soon as we left the cave I turned around. “I already know what I want for my birthday.”

“What?! You don’t even have a phone.”

“Oh, not that!”