An Award-Winning Show
After three commercials, the TV host said, “Welcome back to Hedonist for a Day. Every week, we select a winner from three unfortunate men who’ve had lives of unspeakable misery. Each contestant gets eight minutes to tell his story. Meanwhile, everyone in our studio audience is fitted with tear-o-meters. As each contestant tells his tale of woe, our computer tracks the studio audience’s tear volume. The contestant eliciting the most tears is the winner. For his prize, we’ll put the winner inside our Pleasure Palace where he’ll enjoy incredible pleasure provided by fabulous women, machines, and pharmaceuticals. And now… let’s meet our final contestant!”
A dazzling model set a large glass jar on a table. The jar contained a severed head immersed in yellow liquid. Dozens of multi-colored wires ran from the top of the head to speakers mounted on the jar.
Removing the lid, the host spoke into the jar. “What’s your name, Sir?”
“Howard,” the head gurgled.
“Why do you want to be named Hedonist for a Day?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Sure is. But there’s a devastating story here. Tell us about your unspeakable misery.”
The head told a tale so shocking, thousands of home viewers fainted. Several had heart attacks. Dozens in the studio audience had to be revived by paramedics.
“Phew!” said the host. “What an incredible story of tortuous suffering.”
The camera switched to a large computer loaded with blinking lights. A bell sounded, and a slip of paper fell into a hopper. The host removed the slip and held it to his eyes.
“Based on our computer’s measurements of tear output, I’m pleased to announce this week’s Hedonist for a Day is… Howard!”
Howard’s grinning head bobbed so violently, it almost flew out of the jar.
The show ended when a model carried the jar into the Pleasure Palace.
Entering the palace, the host told Howard, “This is the first time a decapitated head ever won. Frankly, since you don’t have a body, we’re not sure how to apply our mind-blowing pleasure techniques. Let’s try an erotic massage by three professional geishas and see what happens.” Pointing to a topless pleasure provider, the host added, “Take his head out of the jar and put it on the massage table.”
“No!” Howard yelled. “If you pull my wires and remove me from the fluid, I’ll die within three minutes. How about putting me on the pleasure machines?”
“That won’t work. If we immerse pleasure probes in your fluid, you’ll be electrocuted.”
“Dammit! I won fair and square. You better find a way to give me the intense pleasure you promised, or I’ll sue!”
The host took the show’s producer aside. “This guy’s a royal pain in the ass. Maybe we can say we had a computer error, and that he really didn’t win.”
“Good idea,” the producer said. “I’ll toss him a few bucks. Then we’ll get him outta here.”
When Howard heard the producer’s offer, he screamed, “Keep your freakin’ money. I want to feel every ounce of pleasure you owe me.”
After the host and producer conferred again, the producer said, “Howard, we think we found an answer. We’re going to put fish in your jar.”
“How are fish gonna give me a good time?”
“The kind we have in mind wiggle frantically when they swim. When they brush against your face, their wiggling will give you exquisite pleasure.”
“Sounds good to me,” the head said.
The host dropped six fish into the jar and replaced the lid.
“Mmm,” Howard gurgled. “Good choice. This is sooo nice.”
Seconds later, his screams could be heard for miles.
“Look at those cute tropical fishies,” squealed a pleasure provider, as she stared at the skull in the jar. “What kind are they?”
“Piranha,” said the smiling host.
Bizarre. I like it.
Comment by Yuichi Mendez — May 10, 2007 @ 10:36 pm