Recursion C>A

RECURSION

C>A

“I’m glad we’re finally home,” Olive says, stepping into the living room movie set while the live studio audience applauds politely.

“Why?” Jo, asks. The muscular honey blonde butch in the tank top and denim shorts puts her hands on her hips. “So we can knit sweaters and watch Star Trek reruns?”

“No silly,” Olive replies. The red-headed slender femme dressed in the frumpy sweater crosses the quaintly decorated set and sits down on an old couch. One of the three static cameras track her, zooming in for a closeup. “So I can crochet a scarf and watch Firefly!”

Olive and Jo pause a beat for the audience to laugh, and get a cough instead. Behind the bright film lights their director shrugs and motions for them to keep going. Jo says: “I’m afraid we’re becoming boring lesbian stereotypes.”

Olive grins, “And what do you propose we do about it?”

“What if we adopted a dog?”

“As if that’ll help! Maybe we should buy a Subaru too!?”

The studio audience shuffles quietly. Tough crowd.

Jo blushes and ties a dog collar around her neck, “What if I was the dog?”

There is a staticky flash like a channel being changed and the set is suddenly different: the couch is nicer and made of leather, the furniture is glass and steel, and all of the books have vanished. Olive is now a bodacious red haired starlet squeezed into a miniature pink tube dress, “I’m not sure I’m ready to look after a pet. Besdies, I’m allergic to doggy dander!”

Jo giggles and the platinum blonde bombshell in the tiny blue halter dress and dog collar posses provocatively. “But honey,” she purrs, “I’m a hairless breed.”

The studio audience goes Ooooooooh.

“You know,” Olive says recrossing her legs with a deliberate flash of panties, “This isn’t what I meant when I called you a sexy bitch.”

Which earns her a couple chuckles, but less attention than her underwear.

“It’s probably a bad idea anyway,” Jo pouts. “I doubt you leading me around on a leash is going to help us hide our lesbian relationship from our horrible landlord.”

“Baby, anyone who sucks as much cock as we do on camera isn’t a lesbian.”

Joe giggles, “Oh that’s just business! This is for pleasure.” She gets down on her knees, licking her lips…

The sharp electric tone of Standards and Practices pulling the plug! Another stultifying flash of static and the show is back, except now the living room set is shabbier and far too brown. Oliver loosens his tie from his seat on the couch while Josie digs around on the floor looking for a lost TV remote.

“I can’t even remember the last time I saw you down on your knees like that,” Oliver says. He’s ginger and slightly overweight, dressed in an ugly shirt and tie paired with loose slacks. His legs are spread wide and he’s scratching his balls while leering at his wife.

“Oliver!” Josie whines. She has enormous platinum blonder hair and is wearing black leggings with a tight pink shirt that shows off her big tits and inexplicably, a leather collar on her neck. “You’re such a dog!”

Oliver tugs on his tie, “I’m not the one wearing the dog collar.”

Another static flash of channel surfing and the set has gotten another makeover. Now the living room looks clean but boring, filled with bland furniture from a median home goods warehouse. Oliver and Josie are seated on a nice enough couch, both a little older now and dressed in comfortable middle class clothing. Josie fluffs her honey blonde hair and says, “So my mother is coming to visit for a few days…”

Oliver winces and replies, “Speaking of female dogs…”

The live studio audience laughs, because screw mother-in-laws, amirite folks? The director flashes his actors a thumbs up.

“Oliver!” Jo says in bemused outrage and gives her husband a playful slap.

Oliver rubs his arm, “All I’m saying is the last time your mother and her dog came for a visit someone dug up the backyard, peed on the carpet, and humped the mailman…”

“What are you talking about? Mr. Friskers was a delight.”

“I wasn’t talking about the dog…”

More laughter from the audience, but another burst of static transforms the set into yet another living room, this one tastefully arranged with designer furniture and expensive looking art. Oliver and Josie have gained another decade of life and have gone grey with age. They’re still seated on the couch and are wearing stylish but comfortable clothes. Oliver adjusts the rolled up sleeves of his Oxford shirt and says with an English accent: “And so we are now officially Empty Nesters.”

Josie rests her head in her hands, “I know I should be happy they’re all grown up and off to college, but… it all went by so fast! It feels like being abandoned.”

“You still have me,” Oliver offers.

“Don’t remind me,” Josie deadpans.

“We could always get a dog?”

“Y’know,” Josie says thoughtfully, “I think I’m over that.”

“Then what on Earth shall we do to fill the time?”

“The same thing all of the other Empty Nesters do: Fuck as loud as we want!”

Oliver blushes and the studio audience snickers.

Josie stands up, drags her husband to his feet, and the two rush across the set towards the ‘bedroom door’ like a pair of horny teenagers while the audience claps.

Josie and Oliver step through the door, exiting stage left>>>