Chapter 3

“9800 and Counting”

The atmosphere in Studio A was intense. Rocco stood proudly on the table in front of Mr. Lewis and extended all four springs and grommets. “Now; does it bother you, that I am not human? I am a couch, or should I say the framework of a couch, you know the actual wood itself. That should clear a few things up for you and your audience. Now; you can all understand what I have been dealing with all these years.”

Everything went silent.

Mason’s jaw dropped. A stunned Trevor removed his headphones with both hands, stood, and grabbed the side of his head. His eyes shot toward the brothers. “This is a fucking joke, right?”

Stephen and Billy stared back, motionless, then shook their heads. “Oh; Yeah! No. He’s the real deal.”

Trevor paced along the wall, disgusted and appalled. “So let me get this straight. You come here; you come on my show with some lame story about a talking couch and you just expect us to believe you?”

Billy looked at Stephen, then turned to Mr. Lewis. “Well yeah we did; isn’t that what your show is about, ‘The Rest of Us.’ A talk show about; everyone else, but ourselves”

Trevor snapped, “Are you fucking kidding me?” He turned and pointed to Mason. “Did you put these guys up to this?”

Mason, just as stunned, stood and put both hands to his chest. “Are you kidding; do you think I had something to do with this?”

Stephen and Billy sat quietly, their heads moving side to side as if they were watching a tennis match. They let the commotion play out.

The black box hobbled and angled itself toward the brothers. Rocco offered a few lighthearted words. “Happens every time you take me somewhere” They all started to laugh.

Just then, Mason looked down at his laptop and frantically pointed through the glass partition toward Trevor’s screen before turning on his microphone. “Look at the website.”

Mr. Lewis, still pacing, looked up. “What are you talking about?”

Mason locked his arms in front of him and swayed back and forth as if dancing. “Would you just look at the podcast website?”

Trevor, now frustrated, asked, “Why?”

Mason’s next scream was so loud he didn’t need a microphone. “BOSS–LOOK AT YOUR SCREEN!”

A knock interrupted the audio room. Mason was startled by the sudden entrance of none other than CEO Mr. Valor Kaufman and executive producer Mr. Lucius Brooks of the NY-NJ podcast company. They positioned themselves just out of sight, leaving Mr. Lewis unaware they were there. Mason stood frozen as he was told to say nothing.

               Arms crossed, Mr. Kaufman stared through the glass. “So Mr. Brooks; It seems we have been misled about Mr. Lewis’ potential”

               “I believe you are right sir; his attitude is not what I was expecting. I believe he cannot handle such a versatile show; I thought this one would change things for him; but now, I am having my doubts”

               Heading for the doorknob, Mr. Kaufman gave Mr. Brooks an ultimatum. “Give him till the end of the day and you better come up with a plan; and find out who this Rocco guy is”

               “Will do Mr. Kaufman” Mr. Brooks looked over. “Mr. Dylan; we were never here.”

               Mason’s scream and ridiculous movements finally pulled Stephen and Billy from their seats. The brothers walked around to the other side of the table, and all three stared down at the laptop. Like clockwork, they spoke at once. “Holy Shit”

               The chat room exploded with comments, praise, and requests for the show to continue.

               “Let Rocco talk…”

               “Trevor YOU SUCK!”

               “We love you Billy”

               “Rocco is the man”

               “Trevor. SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP”

               “It’s all AI… I don’t believe a word of this shit.”

               “I have a couch can I get him to talk too?”

               “Mr. Lewis is a phony and a fake… dump him”

               “Stephen… I want your children!”

               “It’s all fake, No such thing”

               “ROCCO, ROCCO, ROCCO you are the man!”

               Trevor was speechless. “Okay. Okay. I don’t believe it; there are literally thousands of messages on here. What the fuck?” He pointed at the screen. “Look how fast the chat room is scrolling; 9800 people listening, commenting and it’s rising!”

               Out of the chaos, Rocco called out. “Hello? What’s going on over there? Come-on someone talk to me!”

               “Mr. Trevor you better talk to him” suggested Billy.

               Mr. Lewis flapped his arms. “You’re right; everyone take your seats and let’s work through this.” Completely dumbfounded and over-excited, he took to his microphone. “Okay, sorry folks; we had a little mishap but we are back and we are live. Rocco are you still with us?”

               “Yes, what the hell was that? Trevor, Stephen—Billy, what is going on there?”

               Stephen took a moment to explain the ins and outs of a podcast to Rocco. “Rocco; bear with me a moment and let me explain.”

               Rocco hobbled over. “I’m listening.”

               Trevor and Billy listened in.

               “Rocco, do you remember when we used to watch cabinet makers and furniture refinishers on YouTube?”

               “Yes of course. My favorite one was ‘Is this your wooden leg or mine?’ I loved that show and their theme song, how does it go? Oh yeah that’s right. ‘I’ll hop on the left; you hop on the right… Gorilla glue, Gorilla glue you make me feel so –’ ”

               Stephen chuckled. “–Yes, yes I remember it well, please just listen for a moment. Billy and I may have misled you.” Rocco’s brows lifted in indifference. “Now wait; we didn’t lie; we actually didn’t really know it ourselves, till we got here.”

               Rocco turned toward Stephen and bounced. “Got where?”

                “Well, therein lies the problem. It seems Billy and I mistook the advertisement a little too lightly–and well things just got out of hand.”

               Rocco grew curious. “Explain”

               Stephen pulled the portable speaker closer to the middle of the table and tried to rectify the situation.

               Mr. Lewis and Billy took their seats. Billy leaned toward him with a few reassuring words. “Hold onto your seat Mr. Lewis because you’re in for one hell of a ride.”

               Trevor looked at Billy. “Are you serious, he will do it?”

               Billy fired back. “Do bears shit in the woods?”

               Trevor scratched his head. “I have no idea.”

               Billy cackled. “Well Rocco knows, and we were told that they do a lot more than just shit” Trevor’s face turned white as a ghost.

               Stephen finished explaining. “So Rocco do you understand now?” The speaker didn’t move. Complete silence. “Rocco–Buddy, you still with us?” Stephen turned to Mason. “Did we lose Wi-Fi?”

               Trevor leaned in, his ear an inch from the speaker. “What is that noise?” His face twisted as if he smelled something bad. “Is that singing I hear?”

               Billy grabbed the speaker from Mr. Lewis. “Let me see that”

               Stephen stood with his hands on the back of his head. “Don’t tell me, Oh god please don’t tell me.” He started walking circles around the table with his fingers in his ears. “La, la, la, la, la. I don’t want to hear it… Billy; please, say it isn’t so.”

               “Oh, it-be so” Billy grinned from ear to ear. “Yep; it’s all of them—hey I can’t believe it; Stanley got his voice back.”

               Trevor followed Stephen with his eyes. “Who’s them, who’s Stanley, What song is that?”

               Billy, almost delighted, started moving with the rhythm. “Yep, they got it down now”

               Trevor’s frustration built. “Got what down; Damn it, someone better start talking to me!”

               Billy pointed to the black box. “The Song, It’s called ‘Cruel to Be Kind’ by Nick Lowe. I just got them the CD a few days ago; boy they are getting really good–damn good.”

               Trevor’s face turned dark red. “WHO? You know; you people are assholes, I want you out of here. Mason call the police, NOW”

               Stephen and Billy stood side by side and answered together. “The Coasters; they’re an A Capella singing group”

               Mason jumped up and down in the control room, yelling and screaming. “Let’s make a Cast. Let’s make a Cast”

               Trevor collapsed into his chair, his head and arms hitting the table. He had been beaten. His final words were, “Let me guess, wooden coasters?”

            Stephen and Billy responded simultaneously. “With the original cork bottom”

The top floor of the NY-NJ podcast company contained an audio room for the elite. Two recliners sat in the center of the room, with the city skyline visible on either side of a 150-inch TV screen.

A McIntosh MAC-7200 stereo receiver, with 200 watts per side, powered two sets of Canton Reference Alpha 2 passive high-end floor speakers, each 6-1/2 feet tall.

A single black African oak coffee table stood between the recliners. Two Stolzle 6.5-ounce brandy glasses sat atop gold-leafed, NY-NJ signature-engraved coasters.

A bottle of Louis XIII cognac reflected a warm, rich reddish-brown under the ambient light. Beside it sat two of Cuba’s finest cigars, Cohiba Behike 56s.

CEO Mr. Valor Kaufman and executive producer Mr. Lucius Brooks sat and listened to the unscheduled and unprovoked format of their show.

Two glasses were poured and sniffed. Mr. Kaufman looked straight ahead. “I have had enough. I think Mr. Lewis needs to be taught a lesson”

Mr. Brooks took a puff of his stogie. “What do you have in mind?”

Mr. Kaufman exhaled. “Take away his show, and put him on mail duty. And get me this guy Rocco; I want to see if he is up to the challenge”

“Right away Mr. Kaufman, anything else?”

Valor reached down and adjusted the recliner, raising his feet. “Lucius; have you ever watched The Wizard of Oz and listened to Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon simultaneously?”

Mr. Brooks looked over. “No I haven’t, I have never heard of such a thing”

“Oh it is quite stimulating. Hurry lock the door”

End of Chapter Three