Reality TV Gone Wild

Reality TV Gone Wild

It was a chilly day, I crawled in bed, sipping on tea, thinking about everything and thinking about nothing. Looking around the room caused me to panic. Jewelry left on the dresser, dishes from the night before that my kids used while hanging out on my computer. Paraphernalia from a karaoke party. Sticking out underneath the TV was paper scattered on top of the printer. On my massage table was clothes, snickers/Kit Kat wrappers, popcorn in the bowl and my Ketubah, which fell off the wall just a few days ago.

All was missing was the leftover cake that the clients gave me when I officiated their wedding. I like cake, I like cake a lot, I like eating cake, I like baking cake, sharing cake with my friends and family, do you like cake? I think that’s why the bride and groom gave me their cake from the wedding because I kept asking them like a jack-ass. They shared a piece with each other then turned around and literally handed me the cake, no take it, we insist. What! It’s really not my fault. It’s Ralph’s fault, whoever the fuck Ralph is. I love Ralph’s cake and Hansen’s cake, ooh so good!!! (Laugh) I can sit there and eat cake all day. The only problem with stuffing my mouth with cake is gaining weight.

Slightly sidetrack, right? Right!

 (Giggle) So, my bedroom was taken over by my girls and they jacked it up. The remote on the nightstand was too far for my reach. I was not about to get up, to put my slippers on, just to get a freaking remote. Screw the remote, fuck the TV, there’s nothing on TV, but fake news, cover-ups, scandals, and fear tactic from both Republican and Democrats. CNN and Fox news scares the bejesus out of me. They are worse than gossip girls. I would much rather have the show Scandal back on instead of living this sick, twisted, reality show gone wild. “You’re fired.” Besides, I was close to hosting my own reality striptease show with barely nothing on but my, see-through tank-top with no underwear Feeling sexy, I closed my eyes, allowing the naughty thoughts to take over my mind. Having the house to myself, no kids, no hubby, no dog, just me, myself and my imagination to run wild.  What’s a girl to do all by herself with practically nothing on, sipping on tea with no TV.

Suddenly, my phone makes this amber alert noise. Another child has gone missing or was it or Trump.

Well, the TV in the next rooms turns on and I sat up in my bed, “whose there”. Shhhh, what are you doing yelling out “Who's there”, Shitttt,, Dorothy, are you really talking to yourself?  I quickly reached over and text my hubby, Eric.

Dorothy, did you turn on the stay alarm? Scratching my head, holding on to my right boob.  I’m not sure, why I had my boob, but it gave me comfort. Okay, Dorothy just calm down. I’m looking for a weapon, like scissors, a knife, hey I even checked out, the sex toys underneath the bed. This will do, my three-inch heel can do the trick, yep, my shoe will definitely do the trick…(Whisper)

I tip-toed out of the bed, now holding on to both of my boobs, then letting one go to grab my shoe. I slowly locked the door. I ran over to the nightstand, checked my texted to see if my husband responded. Hey, are you here, he texted where, here, where, ugggh in the house you idiot! No, why? The TV just went on in the living room and I am home alone.  “Oh, okay”, “Oh”!, Okay, What kind of answer is that! Geez, thanks a lot.

He texted back “Honey, I’m sure it’s nothing” Maybe it’s Bailey, No, Bailey is at the dog school getting groomed, remember, besides, she can’t turn on the freaking TV.  “huhhhh, I’m at the Lakers practice, do you want me to come home?  Screw it, I’m calling the pop, pop, thanks a lot.

Oh, & by the way, if I get raped, fucked in the ass repeatedly, stabbed a hundred time, stuffed in the closet with a gag on my mouth, cut up into little tiny pieces & left for dead, tell the kids I love them. Baby shut up, you are such a drama queen.  I am almost home, stay put, don’t come out of the room. Hubby walks in the door, and I hear.

Hi Teresa, Teresa! (laugh) Oh, right Teresa, it was Thursday our cleaning lady, I forget, she has a key. Huh! Way Too much reality TV for me. He unlocks the door, cake in hand, walks in the room, “Baby what are you up to?  At this point what’s a girl to do? I had my birthday suit on.  He whispered you want some cake? - Dorothy Pincus