Chapter 28: Remote Control

A brief break in the action to study the insidious mind games our villain deploys. Also, a cautionary tale about using pride as a defense.

Once upon a time there was a remote control. This remote control had magical properties. Whoever wielded the mystical instrument had complete control over the various configurations of a very important recliner.

As it happens, a young man, suffering from a progressively debilitating disease, lived in this recliner. And for a long time he was the sole holder of the remote. Young as the man was, he possessed a considerable wisdom for the entire outer workings of the remote control. There were many separate buttons and switches: headrest, back, lumbar support, leg rest and seat warmer. Such was his mastery, he knew how to properly manipulate them all.

When his own wife suggested he preprogram his favorite settings the man scoffed, "Nonsense! Do you not see the extent of my great powers?!" He then waved the remote around like it was a magic wand and suddenly "POOF!" The chair was fully reclined.

And so, for a period, his reign carried on as such. Some even said he grew reckless. Claims were made that the young chair wizard went up and down for absolutely no reason at all (though none of those claims were substantiated).

Unfortunately the following months were unkind to the young man. His disease spread to the point where his hands lost all dexterity. No longer could he grip his beloved remote control, let alone push the buttons. What was left of his voice went soon after. Both of these developments led to a nightmarish existence of charades for the young chair dweller.

When the man’s speech device was unavailable, he was at the mercy of his caregivers (and occasionally his children too). Unaware that the headrest resets itself upon pushing the center switch upward, caregivers were constantly leaving the man with his chin pointed at the ceiling. The victim could only assume they delighted in his gagging.

Another favorite prank was to place the remote in strategic areas near the young man’s body. This would increase the likelihood of him accidentally activating it.

"They’re trying to kill me!" He was sure of it.

Even the dying man’s own 1-year-old daughter couldn’t resist getting in on the action. When left unattended, her specialty was to sneak into her Daddy’s den and turn on the seat warmer full blast. You see, the heat button changes color with each subsequent increase in temperature. And she had lots of love for the color red. Countless times the young man would be found by an adult with sweat streaming down his face.

But the most insidious act was whenever someone unknowingly leaned on the remote. Particularly the lumbar function button. For the culprit could not see the chair moving whilst the young man’s lower spine was being fractured. Only his pained expression and grunts were observable to the offender.

In this exact scenario, the young man and his hard-of-hearing father had a lengthy exchange of separate languages.

"I can see you’re unhappy. What do you want?" asked the father, his hand still resting comfortably on the remote.

"You hit the remote by accident," answered the speech-impaired son.

A look of bewilderment spread across the elder’s face, "I didn’t catch that. You do want something, correct?"

The younger nodded vigorously in the affirmative and thus the game commenced.

"Is it a body part?" guessed the father.

The young man shook his head no.

"Are you too hot or cold?" continued his dad.

"No. You hit the remote!" cried the frustrated son. Already fatigued from discomfort, his head began to slump sideways.

"I have no idea what you’re saying. You appear to be looking over there though," the father pointed to a corner of the room where the young man’s glazed over eyes fell. "Do you need something over there?"

Making it obvious that the corner had nothing he desired, the young man made a face of disgust before yelling, "No! The remote control!" His pupils shot back to the remote in an attempt to help the deaf one. It worked too.

Realizing his hand was on the remote, the dad caught on. "You want the chair moved?”

His son nodded gleefully.

"Up?" speculated the father, already hitting the button.

The young man immediately shook his head then quickly added, "The lumbar button."

"Down then?" misheard the clueless father.

"No. The lumbar button!" reiterated the speech-impaired ex-chair wizard, longing for his independence.

The father paused dramatically to study the remote control. After great deliberation he looked up and spoke, "Wait…what?"

"Lumbar man! FREAKING LUM-BAR!!!"

It wasn’t for another half-hour of this amateur Abbott and Costello routine till at long last, the two men understood one another. A back was saved from irreparable damage that night, but barely.

The following day, the young man and his wife discussed the traumatic incident. She was the only one who could still (barely) make out what her disabled husband was saying.

She asked him if he was finally ready to have someone preprogram his remote control, to which the bitter, young man responded…

"FUCK that FUCKING remote!"

His wife, distracted from multitasking chores and conversation, didn’t catch the profane diatribe. "Can you say that again?"

The young man couldn’t help but sheepishly grin this time.

"Never mind baby. Never mind."

The End