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by Albino Finch There was one unusual thing about the Johnson clan which was not commonplace in Anytown, North America. It was this: At four o'clock, the children came home from school. No, this is not unusual. I am getting to that. There were 2.4 of them. One was a boy, the other a girl. They turned on the television, sat on the sofa, and watched it (the TV, not the sofa). What was odd was the manner in which they did it. They never talked or moved. Their eyes rested on the picture tube with perfect complacency, much like dead sheep. Mom and dad came home at six and joined the children, so the family ended up looking like a bunch of corpses whom somebody had set up on the couches and put little machines in their heads to make them blink once in a while, so they had that "almost alive" look of the mechanical animals at Disney World. Dinnertimes were as follows: "I'm hungry," someone would state, not taking their eyes of the TV. The rest of the family would agree. "Me too," they said. "Why doesn't somebody cook dinner?" Somebody else would volunteer. "Next commercial." When a commercial came around, the person who committed themselves to cooking earlier would state, "Oooh, I like this one," and the matter was dropped entirely. Needless to say, breakfast and lunch were the only meals the Johnson's ever got.
One night, a burglar entered the Johnson home. All the lights
were out, so he assumed everyone was either vacant or asleep. He walked
in on the hypnotized family and drew his weapon in a panic and pointed
it at them. The Burglar and his ten friends put in a very hard night's work indeed. When they were finished, what was left was a family, a couch, and a TV. They had stole the usual stuff, jewelry, cash, subway tokens, and such and such. On top of this, they had taken, and fenced, a few hundred bricks, a good deal of two by fours and dry wall, twenty doors, fifteen windows, and furniture. They kept stereo equipment and such for themselves. The Johnson's did not seem to notice the icy winds which they were exposed to, now that their house was in the care of a man named "Guido." The Johnson's never did find out what had happened to their worldly possession, nor did they notice their absence. The neighbour's just didn't have the heart to bring them out of their trance, and into a world in which they had nothing. They even started a fund-raiser to build a shack around the family and pay for electricity for the TV. So, the next three generations of the Johnson's lived in the world of the Cosby's, the gang at Cheer's and the talk shows, and of life tuned to a dead channel... If you like anything here, or if you don't, please e-mail milky@yip.org. IF YOU DON'T, YOU ARE A RACIST.
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