TV Syndrome

I opened my eyes with a sensation of fear in my heart, a feeling of dread in my mind, and caution — tantalising. I knew very well the meaning of my bed — General Hospital. It may be true that the eye is the best artist and the greatest composer, for next to me, to my left, on a parallel bed, lay a doll — perfection does not exist — thus she had to be inanimate. She told me that her name was Dorothy Newhart and that close friends called her Dolly. My Heartbeat got stronger and louder — my chest became the amplifier of my feelings. I wanted to be with this darling creature, this 20/20. She told me that I could call her, Ms. Newhart, since she believed that I had no chance of Loving her. It was a replay of the legend of the Beauty and the Beast, but I was no beast — I was a Hunter.

Dolly was one of The Young & the Restless and from the world of The Bold & the Beautiful — she came from Another World, A Different World, a world which only consisted of Upstairs-Downstairs people, and I was somewhere between the first and second steps (or were they floors). My life was a constant W5: Who am I? Surely not MacGyver. Where am I heading to? The end of the line. When am I going to arrive there? Very soon. What am I going to do there? Nothing much. Why am I asking all these questions and so frequently? Why not? I had One Life to Live and I wanted to share it with Dolly in Texas, somewhere near Dallas. I very seldom experienced any Cheers in my life; my Family Ties were Growing Pains, my Hotel was losing too much money and was bound to go under — my lilliputian Dynasty was beginning to crumble. Dolly became my only comfort, my single joy, but unfortunately, I was dreaming and daydreaming. My sole ecstasy was altogether fictitious, and all my sorrows were The Facts of Life.

“Ms. Newhart!” I said. “The nurse has informed me, upon my inquiry, about your departure tomorrow. I am very glad that you have recovered from your illness, but I would hate to watch you step out of my life. I would miss you very much, and my heart, my best part, my fragile frolic, would cease to function properly — oblivion.”

Dolly smiled a little, but As the World Turns around the Sun, so did her finger circle around her right temple. “Do you expect me, Dorothy Newhart, to remain here, with you? To abandon the top and adopt the bottom? You must be out of your mind,” she breathtakingly declared.

“Dear Dolly,” I said. “You are without any doubt the most stunning woman in the Universe.”

This statement triggered a divine smile upon her lovely face. She reached for her golden pen and wrote her phone number on my bedspread — alleluia. I squeezed that magical numerical sequence with all my might until I felt the heavenly area becoming moist with my exaltation. I let go of it, afraid that my sweat would dissolve that special place. My Wheel of Fortune was turning again, since Dolly expressed a liking for me. My illness was letting go — Amen.

A few days later, General Hospital was behind me, and before me I could trace a Highway to Heaven: Dolly. I called her and she accepted my invitation to Frank’s Place. When I picked her up, she stood lovelier, sexier, more beautiful than ever. I went into a daze in which I was making love to her with imagination and vigour — finger after finger and organ after organ. I was…

“MacGyver!” she said. “You seem to be bewildered.” I came back to reality and told her that I was hopelessly in love with her. She smiled a little and led me to my car — it seems that I had lost my balance.

It is impossible for me to recall what we had for dinner, since my eyes were not fixed on the food or my mouth aware of it. I was entirely under her spell, and all my senses were tuned to her mute music channel. Light is the first of painters, and she was my Guiding Light. After dinner, she drove me to her place and had her way with me.

A long time has passed since my date with Dolly. I had a few other memorable moments with her, but each one was briefer than the former, that is until we grew apart and I lost her.

I watch a great deal of television and seem to especially enjoy the hockey fights. I am also living with a woman by the name of Maude.

This has been an account of the TV Syndrome, which affects a large portion of the population. On the next issue we will attempt to find solutions to this awful affliction.

Mr. Belvedere