Read Online Sellevision by Augusten Burroughs - Free Book Online Page A

“People” was being played, very slowly.
    A screen graphic read Bell Ringers , and listed the item number as S-6884. Peggy Jean had tears in her eyes as she said, “They are just too precious and I don’t personally know the words to tell you what it’s like to be in this room with these very special children. So let’s go straight to the phones and say hello to Roxy in Tulsa. Hi, Roxy!”
    “Hi, Peggy Jean! I can’t believe what I’m seeing, it’s like a miracle!”
    “I know, Roxy, isn’t it beautiful? Let me ask, what moved you to call in this evening?”
    “Well, for years my husband and I have tried to have children of our own, but that’s turned out not to be an option for us.”
    Peggy Jean gave a nod of understanding.
    “And you wouldn’t believe all the paperwork involved with adoption. So when I saw these little Bell Ringers, I screamed out for my husband, I said ‘Put that aluminum siding down and come inside, you’ve got to see what Sellevision has on, you just won’t believe it—it’s the Baby Jesus at work.’ ”
    One of the yellow bell ringers accidentally rang her bell while the reds were ringing. Peggy Jean smiled at the charming blunder, which only made the Bell Ringers’ rendition of “People” even more adorable.
    Roxy continued. “But I don’t see a price on the screen. How much are they?”
    Peggy Jean gave a quizzical smile to the camera. “I’m not sure I understand your question, Roxy.”
    “Well, that little boy in the first row, the third one from the left—the one with the bangs—he’s just as cute as a bug. How much would he cost?”
    Suddenly understanding what the caller was asking, Peggy Jean tried to hide her shock behind a pleasant expression. “Oh, Roxy, you misunderstand. These children are not for sale, you can’t buy these children. You can sponsor them.”
    “What do you mean? They’ve got an item number.”
    “Well, yes, but that’s so you can make a contribution to the organization they’re a part of, So Very Special Children. So how much would you like to contribute, Roxy?”
    Max slammed his fist down on the hotel room desk. “They stole my idea! Those bastards stole my concept!”
    A few months before he was “let go” Max had made a suggestion to producers. “Let’s do a show called Hospice Hounds, where people call in and they can sponsor a dog from a shelter to be adopted, trained, and placed with someone who is in the terminal stages of disease.” But the producers had dismissed the idea, saying the Humane Society would never allow them to auction off dogs on live television, no matter how good the cause.
    When Max looked back at the television, the Bell Ringers were gone and Peggy Jean was smiling into the camera, introducing the next show. “If you love deep-fried foods—like me—but you don’t love the calories, stay tuned for our very first Fried-But-Fat-Free Olestra Showcase with Adele Oswald Crawley. It’s coming up next.”

    “H
    i, Nikki. How are you?”
    “Hi, Mr. Smythe. I’m okay, just trying to get some sun.”
    John had spotted Nikki from his living room window. The girl was lying on a Pokémon towel in her front yard, her firm, young body glistening with suntan lotion. He immediately went into the bathroom to brush his hair and then casually walked outside, pretending to be interested in his driveway. “Better not stay out too long, you don’t want to get sunburned,” he said, sweating slightly, not from the heat.
    “Ah, it’s okay, I’m wearing number thirty,” Nikki said, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand. John walked over to the edge of Nikki’s towel. She smiled up at him.
    “Say, Nikki, I was wondering if you might be able to baby-sit sometime soon?”
    Sitting up, Nikki said, “Sure, Mr. Smythe, I’d be happy to. Except Wednesdays are bad for me, because I have gymnastics until eight o’clock in the evening.”
    Something, John thought, he would truly enjoy witnessing.
    “Ah, no,