“Rocker Reality: TV Paradise” - A Satirical, Short Story

The sparrows were chirping from the trees, epitomizing what early mornings meant.

This particular morning the local mailman arrived early to deliver the Green’s family mail. Stacked between a girl's fashion magazine and several speeding tickets was a letter specially made out to Jess, the sole daughter of the Green household, freshly graduated from her high school, and the only one with her sights set on superstardom.

That morning there was an intense feeling overwhelming Jess. She could feel it well before she woke up, almost like her dream carried on in her wake. Nestled in the center of the girl’s massive room was the girl and her mess of blonde hair. She naturally woke up from her gentle slumber. Her entire bed frame was lifted on boxes, and encasing her was a lace canopy, an obnoxious hot pink color. A variety of blankets and sheets bound her tightly as she rose to yawn. A zebra pattern pillowcase was pushed to the side, revealing her perfectly symmetrical face. The gears needed a second to turn but once they did Jess was up and at ‘em.

From the moment her foot touched the marble floor, leaving the first echo of her footsteps, Jess began acting on pure instinct. She was drawn to her window and ripped the blinds away for a better view of the front yard. At the end of the yard she spotted the post van from her palladian window, and from there it was maybe the size of a hot wheel.

This morning felt truly humorous; never would Jess ever be the one to go and fetch the mail as ‘it wasn’t her job’; but this morning she would, not out of generosity for the family, but because she knew something was waiting for her in the mailbox…and it was being dropped off right at that moment.

From downstairs, Jess’s parents enjoyed their usual morning coffee and swapped chat before their important work days began. Her descent downstairs was audible from the kitchen, an empty, echoing space that had more marble countertops and shiny things in it than it did functionality. Jess whipped around the stair railing like a pinball in a pinball machine that had all its lights on. Her early rise was a surprise, as both her parents were enthusiastic to see Jess awake at such a healthy and productive hour, more so Mr. Green.

“Good morning sweetheart!” Mr. Green said from his egg chair that hung from the endless ceiling. His morning robe kept him toasty and his coffee mug was secured in both his palms gaily. His robe was the same color as the paint on the walls. His oval glasses hung low on his gourd-like nose as he flashed his stained smile, one that said ‘heya, I don’t bite kiddo’. Mr. Green was practically her Dad at this point, even though she often fought her Mom about it.

“Say good morning to your father Jess.” Mrs. Green said.

“No,” Jess replied, withholding her eye contact and feelings of cordiality.

“It’s quite alright deary.” Mr. Green chuckled. Deep down the rejection stung him good, so good he tried to be silly to play it off. “Look I’m the same way sport! Don’t talk to me until I’ve had my coffee! Yuk, yuk, yuk.”

“Like, yuck, yuck, yuck.” Jess muttered. It took every ounce of strength of Jess to hold back from smacking her stepdad upside the head. This was her tragic and unbearable life.

She made way for the twelve-foot front doors, which were made from an endangered tree, successfully escaping her parents and keeping them far out from her business.

The morning chill could be felt through the door handle. Once outside, she swung the doors behind her, grunting at the breeze, and clutching at her chicken arms that were concealed within her baggy sweatshirt. Her exposed legs rose to goose pimples as her bare feet tiptoed across the icy front walk. The mailbox was a good five yards away, a ridiculous distance.

Arguably Jessica Green had the biggest house in her whole school and you could say Penelope Green lucked out when she remarried to Mr. Green, a successful CFO of a sugary cereal company. Although she would never say it to their faces, Jess loved the house very much and loved showing it off to others. She loved talking about it. She loved the house and Mr. Green’s money so much that she often forgot about her real Dad, someone she never, like, ever saw. Her real Dad was a regular guy, a ‘rat-racer’ and someone who Mrs. Penelope Green felt unsatisfied with, and overall, revolted by his simpleton ways.

As she walked the walk, the morning chill only felt nippier.

“This is stupidacy, I swear to fucking God if it's not here today,” Jess said, trekking down her driveway as fast as her frigid self could go.

As she finally made it to the little square goodie box, Jess did her strange, ‘luck ritual’ where she crosses both her fingers, her legs, and her tongue, and ‘focuses her chi’ to summon good luck upon herself. Basically, it’s her closing her eyes to think and holding her breath for a few seconds to channel the ‘good vibes’. This has become a normal habit of hers which she seriously believes works.

Officially her education days were over. At some point before graduation, she had made a great declaration to her parents about how she would “never, ever, EVER, open up another book or even, God forbid even, have to write her name down EVER again”. Even though she was finished with high school and had no plans on furthering her education, her ‘summer break’ had started; and while most of her friends had already made plans to go on post-grad trips or to group up and hit the lakes, Jess refrained from involving herself on purpose. She knew that once she turned eighteen and received her diploma, her Mom would have no say left. Jess was now totally on her own, free to do as she pleased, live her life however she wanted, and of course continue to live at Mr. Green’s mansion for an undetermined amount of time. Ride it out. At least this is how she saw it.

Of course, this wasn’t her whole plan, oh no, no, no. Jess was aware that every superstar needed to start somewhere, and she was equally aware that she was predisposed to wonderful things. Snobby and aware. Lucky, as she saw it.

Her gut told her that today a certain something was sitting in the mailbox and it would determine her entire future, her soon-to-be life of superstardom and fame.

Pulling out the mail, she examined the goods, tossing all the stuff that wasn't for her onto the dew-covered ground. The pink paper of this one particular envelope caught her eye. Without hesitation, she ripped open the paper. She felt ‘intelligence’, as her gut was right yet again:

To JESSICA “Blondie” GREEN,

Congratulations! We liked your interview so much we’ve decided to cast you for the next season of Rocker-Reality, TV Paradise! We hope that you are as excited as we are. Arrangements for your trip to Tempe will be prepared within a week.

We would also like to mention that this is the show's final season. Yes, Rocker-Reality, TV Paradise will be closing up with one last epic season. This may sound bittersweet, regardless, we are thrilled to have you for the season and are excited about our new relationship!

Remember, the audience is expecting a blowout this season! Bring your A-Game JESSICA.

Channel Cero Network

It was like her heart had exploded within her tiny body. Her dreams of wanting to be on TV and to be a big-time star had finally come true. It was like there was no more doubt or wishing, she was actually going to be ‘Blondie’, this character she had made up in her head years ago from binge-watching Rocker Reality, TV Paradise.

‘Blondie’ would be the persona Jess planned on using to ramp up the show’s drama and attract viewers. When she recorded her interview, she knew the producers were looking for personalities and unique characters; Jess tapped into that, and with years and years of strange self-practice, and an obsession over the show, Blondie was finally going to come to light as a real person, and in her mind, Jessica Green was going to be bigger than Paris Hilton.

“YIIIIEEEEEEEE!” Jess squealed.

It was something like seven in the morning on a Saturday, and her neighbors were waking up whether they wanted to or not. Tiptoeing back across the icy pavement, Jess skittered inside and back up to her room to begin making preparations for the show.

There was another paper in the letter describing the legalities of reality TV and it was asking certain requirements of Jess. It was a lot of words, double-sided, and not pink - so she tossed it aside.

Back in her bedroom, Jess was already talking; talking, as in talking to herself, but more like she was thinking out loud. She practiced her inflections and choice of words, seeing how she held her face during anger or sadness or how certain words contorted her lips and eyes when spoken.

“Ugly words make an ugly girl.” Jess thought.

She practiced her laugh and hand gestures, all the while pretending like she was being recorded on camera. Even though she was given a week to get ready, Jess immediately packed several matching pink suitcases, stuffing her best clothes, stripping her closet bare.

“Let's get rowdy!...Who’s ready to party!...Party time!” Jess recited, trying out different lines and phrases she planned to coin.

She faced her makeup mirror, a glamorous thing with infrared LEDs lining the highly intensified reflection. Pinning her hair back into a pompadour-esque fashion, Jess layered on her makeup and continued to recite lines out loud. “All I wanna do is hang out, drink, and find hot guys…All I wanna do, all I wanna do…” She sang, organizing her face equipment and slapping some eyelashes on.

This went on for seven days and after those seven days the former Jessica Green was no more. A blacked-out party bus rolled up to the foot of the Green’s residence. Its doors unfolded and about ten people fell out into the driveway. A commotion ensured as a bustle and hectic operation began. These people were employees for Channel Cero, the cameramen, the mic guys, assistants, lighting specialists, the director, and even the show’s host, Zac Flame, who was getting his cheeks blushed by a tiny Korean woman.

“Alright, people let's get set at one and move those lights to four.” The director shouted.

He was eating a sandwich but also setting up the scene, the iconic ‘pickup’ shot, that the production filmed for every season’s first episode. It was in this scene where they showcased the new ‘Paradise Mates’, their initial impressions, and a quick look at where these people came from. Even though the party bus was ‘luxury’ and something like a million dollars, it reflected nothing but a memory of what once was. A glamorous vehicle that had been routinely used for something-like forty seasons. Compared to the Green’s house, it was just a crappy school bus.

“Alright, we ready now? How’s my nose look?” Zac Flame asked, looking into the Korean woman’s eyes. Overall, the man was handsome, a rich D-list celebrity with loads of money and several ex-wives; but his nose was horribly disproportionate with the rest of his fillers and plastics.

“Sir, I-I ‘book your rhinoplasty for ten o'clock tomorrow morning.” She said. It was a simple miscommunication brought on by a language barrier.

“Huh! What are you saying?” Zac demanded, coming off a bit shocked. He clutched his schnoz to hide it.

“Oh my goodness! No sir! I only ‘say…” The assistant was struggling to find safe words to use.

The director chimed in, saving Zac’s creative energy. “You are done chick. Go the Hell home, you're fired!”

These people were nasty. Zac bowed his head back and waited for the Korean woman to leave the premises. “Alright people, let's stage the knocking on the door and get the intro shot. If we gotta do it twice, we will. If we gotta do it three times, we-” He was cut off from finishing his directions when he realized Jess had been there with her bags the entire time.

She was waiting with a freshly veneered smile that stretched across her orange face. Her eyes were wide and unwavering, staring deep into Zac’s soul.

“Oh my- Jesus Christ! Okay! Hello!” Zac quivered.

“Hi Zac!” Jess stuck her hand out to greet him. “God you are so hot!”

The comment from Jess satisfied his ego and he regained his bearings. He pushed her hand away. “Thanks, kid, do you want an autograph?” Zac reached for his pen (the one he always carried) and signed the side of her nearest suitcase. “There ‘ya go sweetheart.”

This autograph meant nothing to her. Sure he was ‘attractive’ but drawing on her expensive pink bag kinda pissed her off. Zac put his pen back in his front pocket and clapped his hands, it was time to “do this thing” as he would often say.

Her eye twitched; but without breaking face, Jess diverted her gaze from the sharpie, smiled harder, and moved a little closer to the cameras for her breakout moment.

“Action!” The director yelled from his chair. He was beginning sandwich number two. The cameras zoned in on Zac and Jess. An awkward, downward-angled shot.

“Yo yo yo! Welcome to Rocker-Reality, TV Paradise…THE FINALE! For all the longtime fans at home, you know we pack each season with dopeness and sexiness…and well, this season we’re going bigger and BADDER than ever! That’s right! Get ready to indulge in some of the craziest drama and partying you will ever bear witness to!” Zac spat.

Suddenly Jess broke out screaming in excitement. A shrill high-pitched scream, causing the sound guys to winch and clutch at their ears. It was a scream produced thousands of other times, erupted whenever she’d sit down and watch the show; except this time it was much louder as it was finally her who was on the show.

“CUT!” The director yelled. He dropped some salami on his belly. Zac stumbled back, his groove totally thrown off. Not a thing changed on Jess’s face.

“Jessica? Correct?” Zac asked.

Jess straightened her back. “It’s Blondie actually. You can call me that ‘kay!”

“Alright, Blondie…look here sweetheart, for this scene we need you to just stand there and look stoked. I’ll ask you a couple of questions, you’ll get to answer them, and then we’ll get moving to Tempe for the real fun. How does that sound? Can you do that for us? How ‘bout it Blondie?”

“I say…whatever ‘ya!” Jess sassed.

“Ok…fine…I guess we can use some of that.” Zac said. “Alright people.”

The director wasted no time. “Take two! Action!”

“Wassup-wassup! Welcome back to Rocker-Reality, TV Paradise! It’s the Flame and I’m here at the house of one wild babe! Why don’t you introduce yourself ‘hun.” Zac said.

“Hey everyone! This is Blondie Green! I’m the it-bitch ready to take over Tempe! Woo-hoo! ‘Ya!” Jess cheered.

“Yes! That's right! Tempe is the hotspot of choice this season, with sunny weather, tons of great clubs, and best of all…sexy people!” Zac followed up. Truthfully, her enthusiasm helped with the scene.

The camera crew took some more B-roll of the house, filmed some of Jess’s things, and asked her a couple more questions so that the viewers got a good idea of her. It was all standard procedure.

“Can we interview Mom and Dad?” The director asked.

“Nope! That’s alright. They’re not home anyway.” Jess said sternly. Her parents were in fact home as all five of the family cars were parked in the driveway. She wasn't going to let her parents make her look bad on TV. Without letting it kill her excitement, “You there, get my bags and load them in that bus,” Jess ordered from Zac’s former assistant, the lady who was gathering her termination paperwork. She wiped a single tear from her face and ran to help the assertive Jessica Green. She had to be somebody’s assistant. Nobody cared.

After meeting with the head producer and reviewing the shots, the sheepish director conceded and packed everyone back into the party bus.

In the back of the bus was a private room for Zac Flame; and while Jessica made a valiant effort to accompany him, she was stopped, only to be grabbed by two security guards and escorted to her spongey, Pepsi-stained seat. Once seated inside she noticed the windows weren’t tinted but painted over black, giving her nothing to look out at as they drove. The seat hurt her back and though the bus looked somewhat professional on the outside, on the inside it was a hot, craphole and it smelled like one too. She bit her tongue, refraining, holding back from saying anything that might ruin her chances of obtaining the camera's spotlight. From behind her, she noticed the dodgy camera guys giving her thirsty looks, more often when it wasn’t time to film. The salami director was among them.

“I made it.” Jess smiled and positioned her hands on her knees, avoiding touching anything.

It took Jess and the Channel Cero crew half a day to travel to Arizona and by the time they got there, the paint on the bus’s roof corroded from the intense Arizona heat. The inside of the vehicle was a hot box and the only sources of air conditioning were the dinky rotary fans, duct taped to every other chair. Jess slept the whole time and as she dreamt the promised fame felt as real as ever.

The bus pulled into a scuzzy part of Tempe, right next to the college campus. The bus doors creaked open and Jess awoke on cue. Her mascara was crusted over from the steady slumber. She scrambled for the window only to realize nothing could be seen.

“Oh my God I’m blind!” Jess squealed. “Wait.” She peeled her tarred eyelids apart only to realize that still nothing could be seen through the black spray-painted windows. “Oh my God I really am!”

The anticipation was killing her and her tenacity for the spotlight was apparent. Someone in the back of the bus giggled. It took her a good second to notice the windows were indeed blacked out. She pinched her arm and relaxed as the camera crew adjusted their calibrations. Like a bunch of crammed clowns, the production crew unfolded out from the bus.

Once calm and back in the right headspace, Blondie carefully made her way off the bus, her sunglasses dawned and in her other hand, a cigarette, graciously lit by her new ‘assistant’ Cha Cha. Truthfully, Cha Cha wasn’t sure if she still had her job, but she certainly wasn't taking any chances at not having it. The little woman tucked the lighter back into her fanny pack, remaining right behind Jess.

“Thanks babe,” Jess said before taking a short hit. “Do you like, want one too?” She coughed the smoke out. Even though they were Cha Cha’s cigarettes, she felt forbidden to smoke on her own accord.

“Yes. Yes please.” Cha Cha said, making no hesitation to help herself from her own pack. The woman finished the smoke with two drags.

A couple of beefy security guards helped unload Jess’s cargo freight from the back. The main crew moved like clockwork, and the assistants moved like androids, unconsciously knowing where to stand, go and receive. Jess looked for Zac Flame but he was nowhere to be seen.

She lifted her tortoiseshell sunglasses, and squinted her eyes through the vicious beams of sun to see that the communal house where the final season of Rocker-Reality was going to take place looked…it looked alright.

In comparison, it looked better than the houses from the previous seasons of the show, but it definitely wasn’t as nice as Mr. Green’s house, and it definitely was a little underwhelming from what Jess had been dreaming about. The walls were a natural orange rock, like somebody built the house out of a cave or something. It looked small, far too small for the season’s seven roommates, so she assumed it would only open up once she was inside. An ugly iron fence protected the front walk from crazy fans and people who loitered the streets during the show’s filming. A balcony looking out onto the street gave a good view of where the bus and the crew were unpacking.

Her eyes followed the balcony’s reflective railing, and Jess spotted a tanned and ripped gentleman who met her wandering eyes. Like he was caught doing something, he straightened his posture and went back inside. Below the balcony was a koi pond filled with fish. It shimmered against the Southwest sun. Most of the fish were dead from the water’s extreme temperature.

So the house was just alright, but the biggest thing making up for all her ‘icks’ was the fact that she was in Tempe. Tempe had clubs. Tempe had wealthy men. Tempe was the place to party. This was Rocker-Reality and Jess was living her dream; despite a couple of nasty things, nothing was going to bring Blondie down. Before she finished her smoke, Jess was bumped to the side by the camera crew.

“Hey! Look out you ‘lenitic!” Jess snapped.

The production people paid her no attention and stampeded inside the rock cave. She recollected herself, remembering this was reality TV. The cameras they lugged around were massive and obvious to spot, but the people behind them were sneaky, behind the books; and while ‘Blondie’ tried to look her best, and to put on her ‘show’, she didn’t know if anyone was actually paying her attention. They walked right past her without batting an eye. She could’ve sworn they were capturing her getting off the bus, strutting her stuff, looking all ‘hot’; but it was too hard to tell if they actually were. Sure the cameras could be pointed her way, but who’s to say they were rolling. It was like, hard to differentiate.

Yes, it was possible they were filming but not filming her. In the mass of people who marched inside, the salami director was among them; and thinking it over, never did she hear an “action” or “take number-bleh” since the first scene back at her house. The reality of it all was hitting her. It finally clicked in her head that this wasn’t going to be cookie-cutter or anything like she imagined. Even if she thought these people were going to record everything, at the end of the day they were going to milk the juicy bits first. Jess felt flushed and a bit nervous.

“Blondie…I’m right here! I’m the star. Me.” Jess mumbled. She fiddled with her bra strap. She couldn’t get it comfortable.

“Ms Jess.” Cha Cha offered her another cigarette, noticing her first one was smacked to the dirt by the stampede of clowns. Cha Cha stomped the half-smoked cigarette to bits, preventing an assured fire. Jess happily took it and stuck it inside her mouth backward.

She began putting the pieces together. It might’ve been the bus ride or the overwhelming excitement she had that allowed her to forget that this schtick was work after all. The gears in her head slowly shifted, as she realized this was the part where she was about to meet the other five Mates.

Without a doubt, Zac and the cameramen were inside, waiting for her to walk in and snag her initial reaction to the house and fellow Mates. Her face twitched. It was bugging her but she had to accept that not every scene they filmed would follow favorably. These camera people wanted the drama, the engaging stuff. It wasn’t like she could pause the TV for a moment to plan, she already spent the last week doing that.

But what if they had already started filming and she didn’t notice? What if she was picking her nose? A small bead of sweat fell from her pumpkin-colored forehead, and it wasn’t because of the sun.

The front doors were wide open, and Jess could hear a faint chatter present from within.

“Ok. This is the absolute last time I’ll get to think like this. I am Blondie…I am Blondie…I am THAT BITCH.” The exact second she took a step forward, the noise from within the house ceased to a halt. “Get it. Get it girl!” She thought out loud.

Treating it like a walk-out appearance on a grand stage, Jess pinned her bony shoulders back, sniffled her nose, and pranced into the house like she owned the place.

“Whatsup bitches! Who wants to take jello shots off my tit-tays?” Jess cheered. It was a perfect delivery.

In the common room were the other fellow roommates, sitting atop patchy bean bags and helping themselves to the orange slices and mineral water delicately presented on a white tablecloth. There were board games, an outdated karaoke box, and a cutout poster of Jesus Christ motioning a high five. His cardboard palm was worn and peeling. The living space was bare. There were no cool posters, lights, or flashy furniture. The walls were yellowed and blank, and the room smelled like asbestos and old cheese. All the cameras were pointed at Jess, all ten of them.

She moved her eyes, looking for a response. Then she got one. “Howdy Jessica! It’s Jessica right?” It was the shirtless guy from the balcony before. He left the others to go and greet her formally. He stuck his hand out which Jess hesitated to take. It was clammy and cold.

“It’s…I’m Blondie. I like to party?” Jess said, unsure of herself.

“Gee, me love a good fiesta! Arriba!” Said another face from the bean bags. Admittedly, as corny as he came off, this guy was just as attractive as clammy-hands; a dark, chiseled boy, totally shredded, and with perfect teeth; but Jess felt something terribly wrong.

The fellow Mates laughed like banshees at his poor imitation of a Mexican accent. The guy who said it dropped what he was doing to go and high-five the cardboard cutout of Jesus. “Yeah!” The guy cheered, thwapping Jesus’s frozen hand against his.

The balcony guy spoke up again. “Well, Blondie - that’s a super name! They call me John, but I bet you have an even super-er name that God gave you, don’t you!” He was still gripping her hand. It was wet.

Jess didn’t know what to say. He clearly already knew her name was Jessica, as it was the first thing he said. None of the camera crew did so much as blink. Among the awkward silence, and empty smiles from strangers, Jess could hear the soft, whirr of the camera zooming in on her face.

“Yes.” She said without confirming an agreement. He finally let go and lowly chuckled.

A girl with pigtails and an olive-colored sundress (who certainly didn’t look material for the show) slammed down her gnawed fruit slice to embrace her new Mate. She was large, full-bodied, and she grunted as she made her way over to Jess. The Big Girl tried to grab hold of Jess for a hug, but she was too slow no thanks to her weight. Jess took a big step back, still trying to process the situation.

“AH ‘SHUCKS, WE MISSED!” The Big Girl boomed, and without hesitation, returned to her soggy peel. The Big Girl was out of breath and sat down to recoup.

Zac Flame had to be somewhere. Looking around, looking for something to relate to, Jess scanned for Zac or any possible sign of fun. The room was unbelievably hot and overly cramped. The camera crew seemed to have doubled, or Hell, tripled in number. The room was tightening and all the cameramen and their equipment certainly made it feel so.

The only thing that felt remotely right was her assistant chain-smoking cigarettes down by her lower leg. Cha Cha would burn one, drop it, and stomp it. Nobody cared or seemed to notice except for John, who was shooting daggers toward the accumulating ash spots on the tile floor.

The corny boy joined in, but it was painfully obvious he was looking for camera time. “Darn! Who’s the virgin Mary?” He joked.

Jess was confused. The rest of the Mates gasped at this remark. The room’s sugary atmosphere immediately flip-flopped. 

“OH MY STARS! THAT IS SO NOT COOL. HOW DARE YOU MOCK MOTHER MARY!” Big Girl yelled.

“Get him out of here! NOW!” John said, his face and neck region turning a deep purple.

The crew listened to John and two large men from production grappled the boy and immediately escorted him out. He put up no fight, and only bowed his head in a visible exclamation that said “I blew it”.

The cameras caught everything and it wasn't long (only a good minute and a half) before John's face returned to its normal color. The Big Girl was breathing heavily, like she had just finished a run or at least thought about the action of running.

It was silent for a bit. The salami director stood shadily in the corner with his arms crossed. The camera people shuffled around, but nobody spoke until John did at last. “I think it's time for a reading!” John beamed.

“YES! YES! WE LOVE A READING QUEEN!” The Big Girl contributed, locking a fixed look upon Jess’s revealing cleavage. For the first time in her life, Jess felt a need to cover herself.

The group forced Jess into the center of the common room and she sat down between two guys.

They looked normal, they were cute and looked like superstars sporting their tight shirts, flashy pants, and watches. Sitting next to each other they kind of looked like twins, aside from one being bald and the other having hair down to his pectorals. Since she walked in they hadn’t said anything, or even looked her way. It was refreshing.

“Hey,” Jess whispered but it went unheard. Across from them, John and the Big Girl were running the show. The camera crew started handing out Bibles to the Mates. The bald one looked forward, and with further inspection, Jess noticed that he didn’t appear enthralled or interested in the worship. His eyes said so. Avoiding any more attention drawn to her, Jess tried again, keeping her voice down. “Hey you.”

“Shutup. Shut the fuck up.” The bald one whispered back. He looked out from the corner of his eye and with a better view it wasn’t a lack of interest, but fear.

“Excuse me?” Jess said. It was too loud.

Suddenly all cameras focused toward the both of them. The bald guy smiled as wide as he could and flung his meaty arm around Jess like she was his best buddy. He pulled her close for a side hug and nodded his head around. The camera filmed them for a bit and then returned back to the other Mates who were getting ready for the read.

“Meet me in the bathroom. You leave first and I'll meet you in five, keep your voice down, and Jesus Christ - smile more.” He said in a murmur that only Jess could make out. She didn’t reply but tapped on his outstretched arm in agreement.

All six of Mates, who were as close as strangers, left their bean bags and sat around in a circle on the shag rug. All their books were identical except for John's which had a white cover and something gold-encrusted along the binding. He cracked open his Bible and cleared his voice to start reading out loud for the group. He gently looked at his pages and then not-so-gently closed the book and set it aside. He was staring right at Jess. Her heart sank as his face climbed toward that familiar violet color.

What? What? The cameras rolled. It looked like John was looking at her but he was actually looking at the guy next to her, the one with the long hair. John’s face was scrunched and infuriated. His eyes darted around, crossing all territories of the handsome fella.

“So do you purposefully try to look like the Lord and Savior or is it just a coincidence?” John snapped. His anger was sporadic and Jess could tell he possessed serious issues.

Admittedly the handsome fella did look like Jesus, at least akin to the stereotypical Western depiction. He tucked his beautiful brown hair behind his ears. He smiled at John, flashing his veneers. “I’m made in his image man! Aren’t we all?” He said.

“I THINK HE’S A MOCKER!” Big Girl yelled, grabbing one of the cameras and putting it against her porpoise face.

John shook his head in immense disapproval. “Do you realize that there is only ONE begotten Son of God? What are you trying to pull buddy? You’re not him!” John was legit shaking in anger.

The fella’s smile dropped a bit as he tried to de-escalate the situation.

“Of course…of course I’m not John!” He said, picking up his book. “I betcha we can read a ‘lil something about that in this wonderful book, why don’t you lead us?” The fella said.

“WHY DON’T YOU CUT YOUR HAIR! WHY DON’T YOU SHAVE THAT GOATEE OFF? HUH? HOW ABOUT IT HEATHEN?” John screamed.

By now John was at his feet and ready to throw another person out. The Big Girl tried getting up to support him but it was too much effort so she stayed seated. Her infatuation with God was on par with her infatuation with John.

John slapped his chest several times, and his rings cut up his body. Some of his blood fell to the shag carpet and upon noticing, Jess spotted multiple other stains scattered around the room, all of which were dark and burgundy shaded.

“Well…I like my hair…I like…” The handsome fella looked for something to say. His smile was lost. “I don’t have to take this. This is weak man, y'all don't even love God like me,” he said, standing up to leave.

Before he got anywhere this supermodel of a girl stopped him. He turned to look into her porcelain eyes. She leaned into him, gently rubbing his back, easing his decision to leave. While he was distorted, John crossed the circle and unveiled scissors. The bald guy was reading his book and keeping to his own.

“Down boy.” John said. From a low angle, Jess could see his face, bruised and shadowed and his eyes were dark and hollow, likely from the lack of blood flow directed to his head. The man was a bomb ready to blow.

Responding to John’s command, the supermodel chick kicked out the handsome fella's leg and he fell to his knees.

John took a fistful of his long, brown hair and pulled it out. It was fast. John took the blunt safety scissors and swung them against the outstretched hair. He didn’t cut the fella’s hair but chopped it, hacked at it, with the edge of the scissors. It yanked his scalp and the handsome fella screamed as his hair was ripped from his head. John took almost all of it and the fella was left with a botched haircut. The supermodel rounded up the hair strands from the floor and stuffed them into her leggings.

Absolutely nobody in the room did anything. The camera crew filmed and the production's bodybuilder-looking guys just stood back to watch. The fella sobbed into his hands, occasionally touching his patchy head. He was no threat to them or God anymore.

John put the scissors behind him, tucking them in the back of his pants. His face relaxed once more and returned to its normal color.

“NOW THAT’S GOOD DRAMA!” Big Girl said, stuffing her mouth with yet another orange.

It was the most terrifying thing she’d ever witnessed. “I need to go to the girl's room! Like, it’s tinkle-time,” Jess said, interrupting the ‘scene’. She was terrified and didn’t actually have to pee because she had already peed herself.

During the altercation, Cha Cha was obliterating cigarettes by the back wall. She finished one short so she could accompany Jess. The bald man who promised to meet her in the bathroom continued flipping through the pages of his book, remaining completely unbothered.

“You’re gonna miss some good reading.” The supermodel chick said. She was focused on counting the hair strands in her palm.

“Like, darn it, and bless me, but I really gotta go!” Jess replied, springing to her feet. There was a decent wet spot in place of her seat. Her booty shorts were soaked from the back. She blocked it with her hands.

John eyed her and then the not-so-handsome fella who was groaning on the floor. He touched his bloody chest and wiped his hand against the wall, smearing it like a child’s fingerpaint. “Sure.” He said.

With two cameras behind them, Jess and Cha Cha walked down the hallway together.

In the very back corner of the house was a single door with one of those cliche restaurant bathroom signs. The chatter from the living room died down. Before she went into the restroom ‘Blondie’ addressed the cameras.

“Boy…that bus ride, ha-ha…I shouldn’t have drank all that chai tea. ‘Escu-sah-meh,” Jess said to the camera. She shoved them aside and peeled open the bathroom door.

She wondered if they intended to film her using the bathroom, though being an avid viewer of the show, Jess knew that the bathrooms were the one place she could get privacy from the cameras. The bald guy must’ve known that too. The viewers at home hate it when the Mate’s sneak away to the toilets, but she felt she had no choice. She counted the seconds in her head until the bald guy planned to meet her.

She heard Cha Cha through the closed door. “I wait here, Ms. Jess.”

Without anything to record, the camera crew panned their lens down on Cha Cha, someone who looked like a young girl and maybe passed off as a Mate. She blew her cigarette smoke at the camera guys.

Inside the bathroom were at least twenty microphones, sneakily arranged to pick up all the sounds and words, whether it was the running water or a stifled sneeze. To her, being in a Rocker Reality bathroom felt like a fourth wall break. The worst thing she noticed was the microphone glued right underneath the toilet seat. Jess shuddered and turned to lock the door, but there was no lock switch. She could sense the cameramen behind the door. There was a male grunt.

“Could you like go away? I have to crap!” Jess lied. There was a soft scuffle of feet. The last thing America wants to watch on TV is a girl shitting. She turned the faucet on to waste as much water as she oh so pleased. She was finally alone.

The seconds felt like hours. She scanned the bathroom for a window, a hatch, or a hole to hide in. She reached for her cell phone only to realize she had no service. So much for Mr. Green’s unlimited plan! She ripped a towel down from the rack to dry off her lower half.

The only thing she felt in control of was herself. Everyone listened to John, everyone did what he said. Where the Hell was Zac Flame? Wasn’t this his show to host? So far everything she’d experienced was nothing like the previous seasons of Rocker Reality. This was some weird joke being played on her.

It occurred to her to do something. It was the only thing she had to work with: her little good luck ritual.

Jess held her breath, crossed her legs, intertwined her arms, rolled her tongue, winded her fingers, closed her eyeballs, and squeezed everything as tight as she could. She prayed.

God. It’s me Jess. Please help me God. Save me from these ‘pscha-palves!

There was a clamor from behind the bathroom door. Jess snapped out of her trance and tiptoed backward, getting as much space between her and the door as possible. She stepped back, tripping over the urine-covered towel, and fell against the waste can. It toppled over sending used tissues and empty packets of Benadryl everywhere.

Then there was a voice. “Blondie, can you come out? I won’t be the one coming in there if you don’t.” It was Zac’s voice. She felt a wave of comfort hearing his familiar tones. It was just like how he sounded on TV.

“‘Kay.” She trembled—anyone but John.

Behind the door were the two cameras, a little Cha Cha, Zac Flame, and the bald guy from the common room. The bald guy looked shaken up and right away Jess figured why.

Zac stepped aside revealing John who had rearranged the blood on his chest into a cross. Some of it covered his eyes like mascara, but it wasn’t sexy, it was clownish. He was holding the safety scissors to the bald guy's neck. The bald guy’s eyes were wide and that smile he faked earlier was still shown. Damn cameras.

“What were you doing in there?” John said, his hand twitching.

“I was shitting…I was taking a sh…A girls gotta tinkle…I was…” Jess was fear-stricken and the Botox in her lips felt heavy. The sink was still running water in the back.

The scissors in his hand were raised high above all their heads.

John bellowed out. “THE LORD DETESTS LYING LIPS, BUT HE DELIGHTS IN PEOPLE WHO ARE TRUSTWORTHY.” He stopped and looked at the cameramen. “Proverbs 12:22”.

And like that he swung the scissors down across the bald man's neck, slashing open his esophagus and sending a violent stream of cherry syrup all over Jess, Cha Cha; and amazingly not a speck onto Zac Flame. The bald man collapsed to the floor in a slow and painful manner.

She opened her mouth to scream but before she could let out the most petrifying cry she was interrupted.

“AND CUT!” The salami director chanted.

“Wow! What raw emotion. What spirit!” Zac cheered.

“Thanks Zac, and thank you Broadway.” John smiled smugly.

“Absolutely phenomenal.” It was the show’s lead producer. He was clapping his hands. “Terrific performance. All of ‘yous.”

Jess looked at her hands and then behind her at the yellow wall. It was completely painted red. The bald man on the floor rolled over on his back and laughed. He pulled what looked like a juice pack off his neck, revealing it to be prosthetic and makeup. It really was cherry syrup.

“What.” Jess said.

It was his cue. Zac Flame stepped in to do his bit. “Wow folks! Well, we heard you! We’ve read your letters! Reality TV is all fake. It’s all scripted and fluffed up! You guys use fake-this and fake-that! Well? How about that? Go ahead and rewind your sets! Look at these Mate’s faces! What you just saw was real fear!”

“What.” Jess said.

Standing to his feet, the bald man reached to shake Jess’s hand. In fact, he wasn’t bald at all. He took his other hand and pulled off his bald cap, revealing beautiful, golden curls.

Zac continued his speech.

“For the final season, we wanted to try something new and we did! Hey folks! Tune in next week for a whole new episode of Rocker Reality: TV Paradise - The Final Cut!” Zac boomed, motioning a slicing motion with the fake scissors. John began wiping the fake blood from his chest and face.

“What.” Jess said.

With his face cleared and less purple, John approached Jess and shook her other hand. “Hey well done kid. You nailed it.”

She stood there in disbelief. There were too many things going through her head. How did God play into any of this? What part of this was real and what part was fake? Are the cameras still rolling? Was she still ‘Blondie’? Are we gonna party? What about the fella with the haircut? What about the mineral water and the orange slices? What about her dreams? Was she a superstar?

“Am I…famous?” Jess carefully put the words together.

She looked vacantly. Someone answered. “Oh man, are you? You’ve made history today. This is gonna bring us a bonus season! You saved the show ‘chick!” It was Zac, he was crying with joy. His concealer makeup was running. Cha Cha was tending to it with rapid speed.

Bringing her back to reality, John carefully walked Jess back to the common room to show that indeed everything was all for show. It took her a little to move and to get her footing, so he eased her, pulling her gently toward him against his bulbous chest. His skin was warm and not clammy like earlier. It wasn’t long before she was smiling again and feeling empowered by the whole thing. Whatever happened, whatever that was, now…she was a superstar!

The two of them carefully winded down the hallway, followed by the camera people, Zac Flame, his assistant Cha Cha, the salami director, the not-so-bald guy, and the head producer. Everyone was in a good mood.

“AW MAN!” Zac Flame yelled.

In the common room, the Big Girl and the supermodel chick were aggressively French kissing. It was disgusting and it was real.

“That’s showbiz!” Blondie hooted.

The cutout of Jesus issuing high-fives was turned around. Next to it was the fella with the botched haircut. He had gone through more cigarettes in the last five minutes than Cha Cha did her whole life.

The haircut scene was unscripted, improv in fact, and didn't make the episode's final draft.

“We’ll put it on the DVD.” The head producer told him.

“Thanks, asshole.” The fella said.