John Schettler - Fallen Angels - 9 Days Falling, Volume II

Robert rolled over, unwilling to move from the satiny warmth of his pillows and blankets, noticing that his wife, Liz, has already opened her side of the unit and slipped out to start her morning. The mechanism of the outer shell was so whisper quiet that he had not even stirred when the other side of Sleeper had opened and closed. He considered having breakfast alone in the Sleeper that morning. There were still three breakfast entrees in the unit’s refrigerator. He could pop one in to the microwave, activate the automated coffee maker, and have scrambled eggs, French toast, hash browns, milk, juice, or anything else he desired. He thought the better of it, wanting a nice hot shower now more than food. Besides, he was going to have to restock the sleeper soon. The world was going to hell.

Rob stretched, reaching up reluctantly to press a small silver button on the top of the enclosure, and waiting while the Quantum Sleeper opened, the top arching up and back, folding itself as it did to fit snugly at the baseboard of the bed when fully opened. He stumbled out of bed, scratching listlessly as he made his way over the thick wool carpeting to the marble tiled bathroom. The air was fresh and sweet with the scent of Fresh Burst, jasmine and lemon. It was a medley of odors meant to evoke the pristine fragrance of a summer morning, or at least that is what the label on the scent dispenser unit promised.

Rod stripped off his silk boxer shorts, pausing to admire his hard, lean body in the mirror. His smooth, nearly hairless chest was strong and well contoured, tapering down to a six-pack abdomen that he worked hard on to keep well cut. He turned, admiring the round firmness of his buttocks and the tanned flanks of his thighs. The workout in the gym yesterday seemed to have done him some good. He was following the patented Slim in Six program, where he gained the entire benefit of a full six month workout program in only six weeks. He had seen the ad on TV a few months back, and had been following the easy, programmed weight loss system, complete with aerobic exercise, power yoga, Pilates toning moves and, best of all, he had not paid three thousand dollars for guided training and diet counseling, or even three hundred dollars—even though he would have expected to pay much more anywhere else. No, not Robert. He was too smart for that. By calling right away when he saw the TV ad, he was able to totally reshape his body, complete with a free six day maintenance plan and step by step guidebook, for only three easy payments of $19.95. And he had obtained three special bonuses at no extra charge in the deal—all sent to him by rush delivery.

Fitness was an obligation that had been broadcast at him for decades and, by now, it had become a reflexive habit. His entire self image, his manhood, his sexuality itself, rested on the notion that he could still draw those envious stares from the receptionist at the office. What a difference the Slim in Six program had made!

He flexed a bicep, admiring the peak as he tightened the muscle of his upper arm. He needed to do just a little more work on his back, he thought. He wasn’t into heavy muscle building, but he wanted his body firm and hard, two words that most men aspired to when it came to things physical. He watched his diet with the Slim in Six program, headed off the threat of saddle bagging in his mid section, got regular exercise, and made sure that he gave his body a good maintenance workout at least once a week.

Rod imagined that all his hard work would be well appreciated by everyone at the office. Yes, he was happily married, but it never hurt to know that you could turn the heads of the office girls, or even the other men there, and he often thought of how they were probably stealing glances at his firm tush when he strolled by the stock trading workstations to let them all know he was doing a first rate job as their supervisor. He enjoyed the thought that his infrared suntan, another feature he had built in to his Quantum Sleeper , would draw compliments from the pale white co-workers who shared his unit. He relished the idea that his pearly white smile, bought from a thousand dollar visit to the dentist last December, would never fail to please.

He stretched again, and stepped into the shower. A moment later his body was awash in refreshing jets of steamy water, and he was lavishing a thick palm full of Lever 2000 body wash over his well muscled frame, frothing it up to a rich, luxuriant lather so he would be sure to get the best possible day-long deodorant control for all of his 2000 parts.

Drying off with the fresh cotton towel, he heard his wife Liz switch on the plasma digital television downstairs in the living room. The cavalcade of announcements floated up the steps with the distant sound and smell of Maxwell House gurgling though the filter of the coffee machine in the kitchen. He passed a moment of brief longing for old Juan Valdez, the mythical coffee grower from South America who had ensured that the beans picked for grinding were the richest crop in a decade. Juan was fired when the competition from new coffee blends coming out of Southeast Asia had deflated prices and Maxwell House had been forced to pull its TV ad campaign. Such a loss, he mused.

Now the TV announcer was extolling the virtues of the Magic-Kan , an amazing new plastic container for your household trash. He focused on the words, mindlessly, reflexively, hearing that it was a must have for the kitchen, with a sophisticated design that was guaranteed to match any décor while keeping your trash neat, odorless, and out of sight.

His attention was soon pulled to the marble sink basin where he splashed a bit of lukewarm water on his face to prepare for shaving. What would it be today, he thought as he reached for the Edge protective shaving foam? The gel oozed out into his palm and soon bloomed up into a cool fragrant lather. Would it be the Schick Quattro or the M3 Power Razor? The Quattro sported four blades, so just one swipe of his razor would do twice the work of any normal double bladed razor. But the M3 had all the awesome power than any man could possibly crave. It’s mini-vibe mechanism, operated by a AA battery in the handle, pulsed and vibrated as he stroked the blade, raising even the most stubborn stubble for the three bladed razor to whisk away. With the M3, five-o-clock shadow was a thing of the past.

He chose the awesome power, selecting the M3 and making short work of the whiskers on his neck and chin. He finished up, slapping on a bracing aftershave at the end of his routine. A bit of super-gloss hair gel would be all he would need today, and he quickly ran his glistening fingers through his hair, letting the shape and style have just that touch of the tousled look that was so popular today. Soon he was ready to dress and take on the day.

Liz was channel surfing again. As Robert slipped on his robe and shuffled down the stairs, he saw that the ubiquitous ads had been suddenly interrupted by a hair-raising scene from the Middle East. Christ, was the oil still burning there? Lucky for him he filled the tank on his Lexus the previous day, though it was costing him a fortune to drive these days. Liz clicked her remote, moving on to the local channel to take in the morning news bytes.

…. A mass murder suspect in Bakersfield, the crazed 2020 Olympic Bomber trial, new cases of SARS at a hotel—mostly bottom of the hour filler before the breaking news headlines yet to come. Robert sighed as the news cast rolled on. The stock report crowded on the heels of that headline, and the ‘tale of the tape’ seemed bright this morning, as advances outpaced decliners by a hefty margin, mostly in the distressed energy sector. The transportation sector was getting hammered, however. It was no longer cheap or easy to fly anywhere these days. America was no longer “free to move about the country” as one airline put it in their TV ads. Below this, in the slow, steady crawl of the news ticker at the bottom of the screen, Robert saw that the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico was continuing unabated, the war in Asia was heating up again after that volcano imposed a brief time out, the Maine Potato Blossom Fest was in full swing and featuring a ladies’ bikini mashed potatoes wrestling contest! Food to wrestle in, he thought. What a country.