Story Name: LoveLocked
Author: Adam Lily
Synopsis: An infomercial for the company LoveLock, which offers character adjustment services to keep your family in good shape. Or any shape you want, really.
As usual, everyone is terrible, although in this case it’s kind of a toss-up as to who is worst. They’re all bad. Enjoy!
- Husband
- [pleading]:
Please, please, just listen to me—
- Wife:
No! Goddammit, I have had it! Get OUT!
- Husband:
Look, I just need you to listen to me—
- Husband:
Aw, Christ, please don’t do that—
- Husband:
Dammit, honey, please can you just listen to me.
- Husband:
Honey, look at me. We can work this out. Our therapist—
- Wife:
Fuck our therapist. There is no “we.” “We” are done. I want you out.
- Husband:
I’m not going. This is my home, too.
- Wife:
Get out of my house!
- Husband
- [bristling]:
You leave. It’s you who wants out of this marriage. Not me!
- Wife:
You’re the man. Be brave, and get out!
- Husband:
This is my HOME! And I didn’t do anything wrong. Please—
- Wife:
No, it’s not. And yes, you did. Now get out.
- Husband
- [steps forward]:
I’m not—
- Wife
- [flinches]:
I’ll call the cops!
- Husband
- [touches her arm]:
Please just listen—
- Husband:
Fuck!
- Wife:
I fucking warned you! [WIFE leaps on HUSBAND and claws his face.]
- Husband
- [struggling]:
Fuck! Fuck!
- Husband
- [panicking]:
No! FUCK!
- Wife:
Gonna kill you!
- Wife:
Abuse! Abuser! I’m calling the cops!
- Husband
- [incredulous]:
You were gonna blind me!
- Wife:
You abusing fuck! I’m calling the cops!
- Husband
- [takes enormous, calming
breath]:
Look, I just—
- Wife:
You sonofabitch, you’re going to jail! You’re gonna lose everything, me, our daughter, your job, everything—!
- Husband:
Are you even listening to yourself? Can you hear yourself? You’re crazy!
- Wife:
Help! Help! Rape!
- Husband
- [kneels and moves
forward]:
You’re crazy! I just want to talk—
- Wife:
This is the end!
- [SPOKESMAN Voiceover]:
Men, has this happened to you? You’re reasoning with your loved one and she just won’t let you get in a word?
- Spokesman:
If you haven’t experienced it yourself, you probably will. More than half of all marriages end in divorce. It puts a brutal strain on all family members. And sometimes—[gestures to image]—matters get violent.
- Husband
- [to WIFE]:
I didn’t even hit you!
- Cop 1:
Man, shut the fuck up.
- Wife
- [to HUSBAND]:
You’re a monster.
- Cop 2
- [grinning]:
It’s pretty open and shut.
- Cop 3
- [to COP 2]:
We could take him the long way . . . .
- Wife
- [to COP 3]:
What would that mean?
- Cop 2:
We’d do to him what he was gonna do to you.
- Wife
- [confused]:
But he was going to . . . you know. Rape me.
- Husband:
No, I wasn’t! This is bullshit—aggh! [COP 1 wrenches HUSBAND’s handcuffed wrists up.]
- Cop 3
- [grinning]:
Yep. You know. A little “brotherly justice.”
- [WIFE realizes what COP 3 means.]
You’d do that?
- Cop 2:
We all would. Teach the man to respect his woman. All women. All women matter, you know.
- Husband
- [freaking out]:
Respect? What about me? Where’s MY respect?
- Cop 1:
Shut the FUCK UP, bitch!
- Wife:
Wait! Please!
- Wife
- [coyly]:
Can I watch?
- Husband:
Oh my God!
- Cop 1
- [chuckling]:
We’re sorry, ma’am. Against policy.
- Cop 2
- [laughing]:
But tell you what. We’ll wear our body cams. Give you the footage.
- Husband:
Oh my God!!
- Wife
- [giggling]:
Oh, thank you! [She pulls ice pack from her face.]
- Husband:
Look! Look! There’s no bruising! Nothing! I didn’t touch her!
- Cop 3:
It’s true, Sarge. Not a trace.
- Wife
- [placing her hand on COP 3’s
crotch]:
I’ve always healed fast.
- Cop 3
- [to COPs 1 and 2]:
You guys deal with Mister Failed Rapist there. I need to take an . . . in-depth statement with the missus, here.
- Spokesman:
Well, our friend is faced with a pickle! Two enormous ones, in fact! But you might face similar pickles if you try resolving a marital dispute yourself. So . . . consider using LoveLock, instead!
- Spokesman:
LoveLock will resolve your marriage conflicts, permanently. Just watch how our friend’s situation could have turned out differently.
- Husband
- [pleading]:
Please, please, just listen to me—
- Wife:
No! Goddammit, I have had it! Get OUT!
- Husband
- [breathes deeply]:
. . . All right.
- Wife
- [confused]:
What?
- Husband:
Okay. You win. I’ll go.
- Wife:
You’re . . . you’re leaving? You’re not going to fight?
- Husband
- [shrugs]:
You want me gone. I understand. I’ll respect that. I’ll pack up and go.
- [WIFE picks up huge vase and hurls it at HUSBAND]:
You PUSSY!
- [HUSBAND ducks]:
Jesus Christ!
- Wife:
What kind of fucking pussy are you? You won’t even fight for your home! [Storms out]
- [HUSBAND exhales, shakes head, pulls smartphone from pocket, and dials]:
Hello, LoveLock? Yes, I’m interested in your services. Uh-huh. Yes, that’s right. I love my wife, but . . . .
- [SPOKESMAN V.O.]:
LoveLock is quick, professional, and confidential.
- Employee 1
- [brightly]:
You called for us, sir?
- Husband:
God, yes. I just can’t take it any more. I’ve tried, but— [gestures helplessly]
- Employee 2:
It’s all right, sir. There’s no shame. Some partners are just too far gone.
- Husband:
Got that right.
- [SPOKESMAN V.O.]:
LoveLock has already helped tens of thousands of marriages. But don’t just take my word for it.
- Nebbishy Man:
I tried everything to save my marriage. I lost weight, got a better job, bought her gifts, took those “get a personality” classes—everything. I even agreed to an open marriage. For her, not me. Nothing worked. She was still gonna divorce me. I was out of options.
- Nebbishy Man:
But then I contacted LoveLock. In two days’ time, they’d saved our marriage! [pets LOVELY WOMAN’s head] Right, dear?
- Lovely Woman
- [adoringly]:
Yes, Sir. LoveLock saved us. May Bitchsnacks eat, now?
- Nebbishy Man:
Of course, Bitchsnacks. Eat up.
- [BITCHSNACKS laps from the bowl. NEBBISHY MAN places his hand at her rear. Then come squishy sounds. BITCHSNACKS groans and grins.]
Oh, thank you, Sir. Bitchsnacks loves it when you finger her.
- Nebbishy Man:
You love anything, don’t you?
- Bitchsnacks:
Anything you want, yes, Sir. Bitchsnacks loves it all.
- [SPOKESMAN V.O.]:
LoveLock helped this man. Can we help you?
- Wife:
FUCK YOU!
- Employee 1:
Ma’am, if you’d calm down—
- Wife:
EAT ME! YOU FUCKING FUCKERS!
- Employee 2:
Ma’am, language, please—
- Wife:
I WILL NOT BE SILENT! SILENCE IS CONSENT!
- Wife:
NO! NO! NO! [WIFE’s screaming fades. EMPLOYEES 1 and 2 grip her until she’s unconscious, then lay her on the couch.]
- Husband:
She picked up that stuff a while ago. I don’t know where she gets it from.
- Employee 1:
It’s probably because she can read or something. It’s not your fault.
- Employee 2:
It’s sinister, this stuff. It’s everywhere.
- Husband:
You guys are busy?
- Employee 1:
Business is booming, yes.
- Husband:
So, when can you have her back to me?
- Employee 2:
The standard process is just 48 hours.
- Husband
- [frowns]:
But we were hosting a party tomorrow. Folks from our Church—I’m a deacon there. We’d have to cancel.
- Employee 1:
Oh! Well, sir, there is a 24-hour rush option.
- Husband:
What’s the difference?
- Employee 2:
It costs a little more, as you might imagine. But the main difference is the discomfort the subject feels.
- Husband:
Discomfort?
- Employee 1:
Yes. Well, not just discomfort. Some pain.
- Husband:
Pain?
- Employee 2:
Yes. Well not just pain. A little agony.
- Husband:
A little?
- Employee 1:
Yes. Well. Actually, a lot. Like she’s on fire for a day. You see, for the 48-hour process, we put her into a coma. She won’t feel a thing. But for a rush job? She has to stay awake for the whole teardown and build up.
- Husband
- [considering]:
I don’t know. . . .
- Employee 2:
We understand, sir. We know you love her. But once the process is done, she’ll be happy it happened. She’ll even thank you, because she’ll know it’s what you wanted.
- Husband:
Really?
- Employee 1:
Yes, indeed! In fact, it gets better. With the 24-hour process, we provide an extra implant. Not only will she be happy about it, she’ll even want to watch all the footage of what happened to her!
- Husband:
There’s footage? And she will?
- Employee 2:
Yup! She’ll love watching herself get processed. The full 24-hour video comes with your account. We’ll host it forever. Or at least until North Korea tosses an EMP at us . . . .
- Husband:
Those nutty North Koreans.
- Employee 1:
We know. Of course, they’re who we got this technology from, so they can’t be all bad.
- Husband:
I suppose not. All right. So, 24 hours?
- Employee 2:
Absolutely, sir. What time is your dinner party?
- Husband:
Starts at 5:30 tomorrow.
- Employee 1:
That’s perfect. We’ll get her back to you by 4. You can give her a test run before guests arrive.
- Husband:
She’ll be able to help me host?
- Employee 2:
Sir, she’ll do anything you want. That’s our guarantee, or we buy her from you.
- Husband:
All right.
- Employee 2:
She’s waking up, Don.
- Employee 1:
Then we’d best take her in, Rob. Don’t worry, sir. We’ll fix her. [HUSBAND shakes EMPLOYEES’ hands. Scene freezes. SPOKESMAN walks out in front of the image.]
- Spokeman:
Many customers prefer the 48-hour option, but there is a 24-hour option. It costs extra, and it does cause the subject agony, but . . . well, that’s the price of accelerated progress, isn’t it? And it’s a small price to pay, wouldn’t you agree? Especially for lifelong access to the LoveLock processing video! And when all’s said and done, they won’t mind a bit.
- Husband:
Thanks for coming!
- Wife
- [hoarsely]:
We loved having you! Drive safely!
- Husband:
That was great!
- Wife:
It went really well. I think everyone had a lot of fun. I just wish my voice weren’t so scratchy. . . .
- Husband:
Just all the screaming you did, I’m sure. I’m just glad you and I worked things out.
- Wife
- [leans forward to kiss
him]:
Me, too, love.
- Husband:
Christ, the place is a pit.
- Wife:
I know! We’ve got a lot of cleaning to do.
- Husband:
We?
- Wife:
I’m sorry, love. Did you want me to do all the cleaning?
- Husband:
As a matter of fact, I did. [Slaps WIFE’s behind.] Hop to!
- Wife
- [giggles]:
Yes, love.
- Husband:
That’s “Sir.”
- Wife
- [smiling hugely]:
Yes, Sir. I’ll hop to, Sir.
- Husband:
Honey? I’d like to try something out.
- Wife:
Yes, Sir?
- Husband:
Take off your clothes. All of them.
- Wife:
Yes, Sir.
- Wife
- [pirouetting clumsily]:
Do you like what you see, Sir?
- Husband:
I definitely do, honey. Keep cleaning.
- Husband:
Wait. Only four?
- Wife:
Yes, Sir. That’s all I can hold at one time.
- Husband
- [smirking]:
Oh, we’ll see about that.
- Husband:
Suck on this. Like it’s a cock. Get it good and slobbery.
- Wife:
Okey-dokey. [WIFE complies, looking at him all the while.]
- Husband:
Good enough. Okay, turn around and bend over.
- Wife
- [moans]:
Oh God . . .
- Husband:
You like?
- Wife
- [moans]:
Oh God, yes. Yes, I like it, Sir.
- Husband:
Why do you like it?
- Wife:
Because you’re doing it, Sir. I like everything you do, Sir.
- Husband
- [grinning]:
Good girl. [He pushes bottle into WIFE, and she moans.]
- [SPOKESMAN V.O.]:
There’s no ramp-up period. When we drop off your spouse, she’s ready and raring to go. That’s a promise.
- Husband:
Okay, there we go.
- Husband:
See? You can take an extra bottle. In fact . . . [picks up another bottle] Here, turn around again. Suck on this one too, you horny little bitch.
- Wife
- [squeals]:
Oh, YES! [deepthroats bottle]
- [SPOKESMAN V.O.]:
She’ll be ready for whatever, whenever, no matter what. That’s our guarantee.
- Husband:
Alright, turn around and bend over. [Places the lip of the bottle against WIFE’s anus.]
- Wife:
OHHHHHHHHHHH MY GOD—
- [HUSBAND smacks WIFE’s rear, hard.]
Shut up, you dumb cunt. You love this.
- Wife:
Yes, Sir, I love this! Please stick that bottle in my ass! I’m a dumb cunt, and I love it!
- Husband
- [smirking while working the
bottle in]:
What happened to “Silence Is Consent”?
- Wife:
I’m AHHHHH—consenting! I’m consenting!
- Husband:
Very noisily consenting . . . .
- Wife
- [grunting]:
Fuck . . . yeah . . . oh . . . please. . . gawd it’s so big it hurts . . . please—
- Husband
- [assertively]:
You love it. You love the pain.
- Wife:
YES! YES! I luv it! luv it! luv it! [babbling]
- Husband:
Feeling full?
- Husband
- [picks up another
bottle]:
You always were an overachiever. Let’s make my bitch airtight, shall we? Turn around again. Good. Deepthroat this one, Cupcake.
- Husband:
There we go. All holes filled. Just like God intended, right? Before that bitch Eve got all uppity and blamed Adam?
- Husband:
All right. Later, I’ll make you take a shit on your college degree. Right now, go ahead and walk those bottles outside and—
- Daughter:
Mom, Dad, I’m home—uh?
- Husband:
Er—
- Wife:
[muffled animal noises]
- Daughter:
OH MY GOD! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?
- Husband
- [steps forward]:
Look, baby, it’s like this—
- Daughter
- [flinches]:
You freaks! You FREAKS!
- Husband:
Hello, LoveLock? Yes, it’s kind of an emergency . . . it’s my daughter. [listens] Yes, she’s 19. In college, and Women’s Studies, so she might not approve of our lifestyle choices. She saw us and ran away. Could you—
- [SPOKESMAN V.O.]:
At LoveLock, we don’t judge. Our job is to help you keep your family together, period.
- Daughter
- [shivers]:
Oh, Mommy . . . .
- Wife:
Oh, Baby . . .
- Husband:
All fours, my loves. No, don’t pout—you’ll love this. Okay, face away from each other. Good. Okay, I’ll put this end inside you—[one end disappears into Wife]—and, now, you. Good. Okay, now back up . . . back up . . . . good!
- Wife
- [giggling]:
Your ass is cold, Baby!
- Daughter
- [moaning]:
Yours is, too, Mommy!
- Husband:
Well, warm ‘em up! Start bumping those butts together!
- [SPOKESMAN walks into the living room]:
Another family saved. Right, sport?
- Husband:
Right! [Looks directly out of the screen.] Thank you, LoveLock!
- Wife
- [moaning, dazed]:
God—yes—thank you, LoveLock—oh—
- Daughter
- [flushed and panting]:
Yes, Thank You, LoveLock, Thank You, Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh—
- [Camera focus on SPOKESMAN]:
Call LoveLock today. We can help you save your family. And remember our promise: Our locks last forever!