Mrs. Cramp was sitting very comfortably, sipping a nice cool strawberry milk shake one fine summers eve, whilst watching her beloved 32-inch plasma television. The TV was as flat as a fox on a freeway but as beautiful as a piece of art. Mrs. Cramp would mutter like a mad man while men and women would sing and dance, or fall in love in the most beautiful way, or solve the most extraordinary crimes that were far more interesting than anything she could read in the paper and why do that? TV watching was far more relaxing and she didn’t even need to think! Indeed - that was all done for her.
Rodney, her husband of thirty years, would sit every night in a small arm chair on the opposite side of the room, watching this spectacle with great interest. The blank expression on her seemingly unamused face and the slumped posture that resembled that of an unemployed sloth. She, to him, was about as attractive as a pig in knickers. The pig: his wife, would occasionally produce an inane grin that would slide across her porky little face when anything vaguely amusing was muttered by a slightly orange T.V. host. After many years of careful observation, Rodney had noticed and was entirely convinced that it was not the jokes that amused her; on the contrary it was something far more interesting, something strange. The television seemed to be controlling his wife - taking hold of her tiny mind, as if it were telling her what to do. Rodney had worked out that when his wife laughed or chuckled, it were not down to free will. The annoying noise would only fall from between her lips when the audience was like an orchestra of hyenas. This, would be just enough to tickle her brain, then the offensive boom would burst out of her enormous cake hole. The hole would stretch and expand itself into a half open banana shape that sat in the center of her hideous faces. This was a frightening and harrowing spectacle!
