Fantasy A Little Night Music by TMaskedWriter

[Ramesh_Rocky]

A Little Night Music Ch. 07

"I am gross and perverted, I'm obsessed n' deranged.

I have existed for years, but very little has changed.

I'm the tool of the Government, and Industry, too.

For I am destined to rule and regulate you.

I might be vile and pernicious, but you can't look away.

I make you think I'm delicious with the stuff that I say.

I'm the best you can get. Have you guessed me yet?

I'm the slime oozing out from your TV set."

-Frank Zappa, "I'm The Slime"

"In five... four..."

The technician finished the countdown with his fingers and pointed at Contessa Helena de San Finzione. She sat in a Louis XV chair, completely naked except for jewelry. Emerald earrings and her tiara adorned her head. Her wedding ring, her signet ring, and the small emerald pendant she wore, dangling above her bare breasts were the only other objects on her body. Next to her, sitting on a couch that looked a lot like the one her parents had were Sally and Cara, America's Favorite Fifty-Something Early-Morning Drinkers; or rather, distorted versions of them, reminding her of pictures of Sensory Homunculi with their giant hands that held wine glasses bigger than their gargantuan ears; enormous chins with exaggerated lips and mouths. The first time Helen saw one, she'd thought it was a figurine of some racist old-time cartoon character before being informed that it was a neuroscientific research tool.

A blistering metal version of the "back from commercial" jingle that Helen thought was an improvement from the original started and the Sally and Cara-Things began animatedly pretending to be in the middle of talking about something, their exaggerated gestures of excitement about the imaginary subject causing pints-at-a-time of wine to slosh out of their glasses.

"And we're back," the Cara-Thing said to the camera. "Our guest today likes to think she's accomplished a lot, but if that's the case, why's she naked in our studio?" Helen now noticed that she was naked. Out of the corners of her eyes, she could see some of the crew and members of the audience ("Hmm," she thought. "This show doesn't usually have a studio audience.") looking directly at her had started touching themselves, and she imagined a sizable portion of the home audience were gazing upon her naked form, their hands slowly starting to move down to between their legs. Helen wasn't sure if she was more embarrassed that all over the globe, people were simultaneously masturbating to the sight of her nude body on live television or more aroused that one of her deepest fantasies was currently being fulfilled.

"That's right, Cara," the Sally-Thing chimed in. "She's the offspring of a no-good piece-of-shit and his murder victim, and if her friends hadn't taught her to control minds, she'd either be dead, stripping, or streetwalking right now. After she used it to get revenge, she married a rich European noble for his money and throne, turning the true heir into her lesbian sex slave. Please welcome Helen Parker, ladies and gentlemen!"

The audience applauded. Helen frowned. Only four people in the world had her permission to use that name, and neither of these two were Troy, Julie, Susan, or Barbara Walters. Helen opened her mouth to say something before Sally spoke again.

"Now Helen, you were a COMPLETE slut in college. I mean, how many of the boys joked about 'Parking with Parker?'" The audience laughed. Helen sat up. Yes, everything they were saying was true, but she wasn't going to sit idle for it.

"This isn't the interview I was promised," she said. "But since you're clearly fishing for ratings here, yes. I found it was an easy way to keep from having to go home and deal with Wade. That joke predated me, though. It was started over someone else for the same reason."

"Oh, yes," The Cara-Thing said, stroking her chin in a gesture that took a second or two because of the size of both her chin and her hand. "The older sister that nobody talks about; who ran off before you were old enough to even pronounce her name. What was it again?"

"Persephone." Helen replied. It had been so long since she'd said it, the name felt strange on her lips; a dimly-remembered sense-memory like the taste of a candy from childhood that hasn't been made in years. "Yeah, Paneffee! Right. That's how I said it then. Oh, she didn't come to either funeral; I figure she's gotta be dead by now or she'd have shown up looking for money or something long ago."

"Wow, Mom was into Mythology, wasn't she," The Sally-Thing chimed in. "That's right, Persephone. The one who stole all Wade's guns, sold them for a quarter their value for cash to hop a plane to LA, and was never seen again. Is that right?"

Helen started laughing, her breasts seeming to jiggle lazily, like Father Time Himself was also watching and enjoying the free show, and was extending each moment of time as it applied to her tits to savor the sight of Helena's erect nipples.

"The best part... he took it out on us mercilessly for it, of course, but still, the BEST part... was HE'D stolen them first!" She continued to laugh and thrust her chest forward to give Chronos a better view. "So, he couldn't even get them back! And the fucker was on probation too! If he'd even SAID they were his, they'd have locked him back up!" Helen stopped to catch her breath, but started talking again before she'd caught it.

"He... he started taking me to pawn stuff with him... cause they gave him a better deal if he brought his little girl with him... and he'd get this sad look when he'd check out the gun racks. It took me years to figure out why! Because it was... it was the grave of his little John Dillinger 'World-Famous... Notorious Bank Robber' dreams!" Her laughter died down and a hand began snaking up to her breast.